A Knack for Things
by Jabberwockiness
Summary: She stepped closer to him and looked up, eyes very, very wide, eyelashes fluttering. She went up on tiptoe and, in a murmur, she said, 'James, I just wanted to say that' - she leaned closer, watching him gulp, his eyes intent on her face..."
1. Numbers

* Also published on Unknowable Room and

---

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a school for the unusual, for the strange, for the children who just wouldn't fit in, anywhere else. At Hogwarts, these children shine, flourishing in this small school in Scotland, letting their natural gifts grow. Except for this child, apparently. _

She had a knack for numbers. They made sense. That was why she got an O in her O.W.L.s in both Potions and Arithmancy – because she could bend the numbers to her will. There was something about them that spoke to her rationale. The components of a formula, chemical or mathematical, practically jumped to her bidding, solving themselves. But just because she was good at those two subjects didn't mean that she liked them.

And then there was Charms. She was good at Charms, too, but it was a subject that she found rather interesting. To her, the ability to alter objects temporarily was absolutely brilliant. It was pure magic, it was – all you needed was your wand and a creative brain, no fancy props or anything. And when she liked something, she paid attention in class. So she got an O in her Charms O.W.L.; but what did any of that really mean, anyway?

Which was why, when Lily Evans was confronted by a Career Advice session, she panicked.

"Good heavens, Miss Evans, are you all right?" McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, was staring at the girl's pale white face, a sheet of parchment listing Lily's .'s in front of her. "I merely asked if you had given any thought to playing to your strengths, in terms of your future?"

"Erm, not at all," Lily admitted, eyes cast downwards at her fingers twisting in her lap. "I mean, I don't really like any subject more than any other, and it's not like I'm especially good at anything."

There was a momentary silence; Lily looked up to find McGonagall just _looking_ at her, eyes narrowed. "Surely you're joking," she said at last.

Lily shrugged.

McGonagall took off her glasses and quickly cleaned them on her robes, saying slowly, "I would expect better from my sixth year prefect. What will you do for your senior tutorial? Or this summer? I hope you realize that an internship in the right field will help you be a star applicant for employment opportunities."

"Erm" – Lily bit her lip, trying to think – "I dunno. I've just been a bit busy, I guess. My aunt wants me to help her out in her flower shop when school's out." She supposed this was not what McGonagall wanted to hear, but that was the truth. To some extent, anyway. To be honest, she had been a bit preoccupied of late.

"Miss Evans." McGonagall leaned forward across her desk, and Lily knew that this meant that the woman was serious. "You're a very bright girl, with a bright future, despite these times of war." She slid a couple of colorful pamphlets towards Lily as she said firmly, "I expect you to take a look at these before our meeting next week. They're geared toward someone of your particular strengths. You will bring me a list of potential careers that are of interest. Are we agreed?" She held Lily's gaze until the girl nodded meekly, before inclining her head in dismissal. Lily left quickly.

"God, Evans, what took you so long?" Lily looked up to see Sirius Black leaning wall outside McGonagall's office, arms crossed, eyebrow cocked. Naturally, his voice was snide – for some reason, he'd never liked her. Presumably, his Career Advice session was next. McGonagall was systematically working her way through all the Gryffindor sixth years this week. "You plan out your whole life with her or sommat?"

"Nah. Didn't even get beyond plans for the summer, to be honest. Apparently I'm not going to amount to much." She flashed him a wry smile and spun on her heel, leaving a bemused boy in her wake.

---

"Hello, poppet! What're you reading?" Lily raised her eyebrows in greeting to her favorite source of irritation – Potter – but raised the book so that he could see the title anyway. "_Flesh-Eating Trees of the World_; sounds utterly fascinating!" She didn't know how he had managed to find her, tucked away as she was in a nook of the library, but, nevertheless, here he was.

"It is. Why are you so cheery?" Lily muttered, going back to the book. If she concentrated long enough, maybe he would go away…

No such luck. It was James Potter after all. With a wide grin he collapsed into the armchair across from her before throwing a pile of pamphlets onto her table. Pamphlets that looked suspiciously like the ones that Lily had "accidentally" left in the common room before dinner. Damn. "I ran into McGonagall after dinner, you see." If anything, his grin got wider. "She sent me on an _errand._"

"Oh?" Lily pursed her lips. Ordinarily, she might have been amused by his presence, but as it was, she was actually caught up in a chapter that might prove useful to her Muggle botanist of a father. Her family seemed to have an affinity for plants.

Apparently Potter mistook her silence for interest, for he pressed onwards, pushing the brightly colored papers across the table, saying, "Well, not a technical _errand._ More like a suggestion of hers, you see. Wanted to make sure that you were thinking about job plans, y'know. These were left in the common room – Padfoot recognized them as yours?"

"Padfoot is much too observant sometimes." She turned the page. "And there really is no need for you to be bothering about this career nonsense." _The carnivorous Fanged Geranium has a preference for humans, but it will often bite anything within a 1 meter radius. Easily mistaken for a generic geranium. While not a flesh eating tree per se, it is frequently found near those trees and is – _

He snickered, interrupting her train of thought. "McGonagall worries about you, is all. I mean, what with this war and all. You do know there's a war on, right?"

"Of course!" _near those trees and is capable of forming a symbiotic –_

"Because despite the fact that Hogwarts is a bit of a bubble for news, you really ought to realize what an effect the war has on openings for jobs. The Auror Department, for instance." A dark blue brochure with silver lettering was pushed into her lap, proclaiming "Your Ministry Needs You!"

She sighed before she could help herself. Clearly, she would have no peace until she dealt with the boy. He wouldn't even let her finish the sentence, let alone the chapter! So she closed the book and stuffed it into her bag. "Is that what you're going to be, Potter? An Auror?" But of course it was. It was what he'd wanted to be for years. Potter had no secrets from the Hogwarts community.

"Maybe." He shrugged, and she was momentarily surprised to see such a noncommittal gesture from him. Potter was about assertiveness and confidence – she had always been the disinterested one. "If that's the best way to help the government, I s'pose. But we weren't talking about me." He raised an eyebrow. "Thought you would've been organized enough to have a plan or something."

"Me?" She twisted her mouth into something akin to a grimace. "Potter, let's be honest. I can't even plan beyond tomorrow, let alone the next couple of years!"

Now he really looked surprised. "But you're always so organized! And working hard!" He sifted through the other pamphlets. "Well, McGonagall thinks you could be a Healer. Or a Curse-Breaker at Gringotts." He brightened a little. "You're good at Arithmancy, after all. Or Muggle relations! Bet you'd be brilliant at that!"

"What with being Muggleborn and all," she pointed out dryly.

"Oh. Right." He grinned sheepishly. Merlin – the boy just bounced from emotion to emotion, didn't he?

"Potter, what are you really doing here?" She looked him in the eye, surprised to see him flush a faint pink. It was almost – adorable? No, comical was a better word. "Don't you have pranks to pull with your little lackeys?"

"Well, there was McGonagall's errand, you see." He took on a serious look; she hoped he was joking. But he wasn't. "She seems to be rather concerned about you."

"And she asked you, of all the people that I know, to help me with this theoretically life-altering decision?"

"Erm…well…you see…" He was stalling. Any first year idiot could see that. She sighed again, winding a long curl around her finger – she really must see about cutting some of the blasted hair off, maybe the next Hogsmeade visit? "I was with Remus, and I mean, she didn't say _specifically, _but – "

"She asked Remus." Of course she did. Not only was he her fellow prefect, but McGonagall had a soft spot for him. And he was a friend. A reasonably close friend, actually.

"Right. But we passed Isabella right afterwards and she mentioned that you were in the library and I told Remus that I was on my way here anyway and he just kinda went along with it." One of her friends had told them her location? She was going to have to have a talk with Isabella about this. Did the girl just not understand that the Marauders and Lily just didn't mesh well? "Which is to say that I didn't give him a chance to object." Potter's bright smile never wavered during this baffling explanation. "So you see, there was an errand, and McGonagall did assign it, and – "

"Merlin, help me," Lily muttered, before leaning across the table and frowning at the boy "Listen, Potter. I don't know what I'm doing, but frankly, I doubt that you're the person to help me. So, if you don't mind, I'll just – "

He interrupted again. What was with him and interrupting her? "We could discuss career prospects over dinner this weekend, in Hogsmeade, if you like." Ah. There it was. The inevitable invitation.

"I'll pass, Potter." In a swift motion Lily gracefully stood up, bag slung over her shoulder. "Nice try, though. Points for carrying on a conversation before trying to transition into asking. Too bad the transition needs work." With one last smirk, she stalked out of the library. Isabella had some explaining to do.

---

A/n: Well, here we are. After a three-year hiatus – hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think, please?


	2. Being Punctual

**Being Punctual**

_Friday, June 10, 1977 _

How had this happened? Somehow, an entire week had passed, and now Lily Evans was skidding to a stop in front of McGonagall's office. Damn Career Advice sessions. She checked her watch – it was 4:30; she was right on time, as always. This was something else that Lily was good at – being punctual.

Or rather, arriving just in the nick of time, a slight hair before anybody would consider her late. Fiona was rather envious of this ability, since the poor girl could set off ten minutes early and somehow show up late, whereas Lily could, from classes to Quidditch games, be unfailingly on time. However, professors were often marginally irritated with her for, as they often put it, "not showing initiative and showing up early." Apparently, prefects were supposed to be good role models. Strange concept, that.

"Bye, Professor." Lily grinned at Fiona Adler as the other girl stepped out of McGonagall's office, a pile of books in her arms. "Oh, hi, Lily. Your turn next?"

She nodded. "How was it?"

Fiona shrugged. "She hasn't got much to do with me, really. Healing runs in my blood." Lily was almost envious of Fiona's practically predetermined path – she had nothing of the sort. Fiona was still talking. "Anyway, McGonagall's in a good mood, so you should thank me. Well, her happiness might also be because I think all the Gryffindors passed their Transfiguration exams. I'm off to pack – Julian and I have plans later. See you tonight?" Without waiting for an answer the girl walked away, leaving Lily completely on her own.

"Hello, Ms. Evans. Take a seat." Minerva McGonagall peered over her spectacles at her prefect. "What ideas do you have for me?"

"Well…" Lily cast about for an idea. "Erm…I like Charms," she began hesitantly, thinking that McGonagall's eyes had brightened marginally. "And since I'm helping my aunt with her flower shop, er – I know I'm not very good with plants, but –"

"You haven't thought about it at all, have you." It wasn't a question. Lily averted her eyes – she didn't want to see the look of disappointment in her professor's eyes.

"Erm…"

A loud sigh. "Ms. Evans, let's try a different approach, seeing as you seem to have misplaced all of those pamphlets." Lily was trying to not simultaneously blush and giggle. Fiona had brought the papers to her last night, saying that James had instructed her to give them to Lily. When the red-haired girl tried to vanish them, they had apparently appeared in various parts of the castle – at least Lily no longer had to contend with them. "Well? What do you _like_ to do?"

"Read," she replied promptly, then blushed at how silly that sounded. "And I like Charms, I guess. More so than Herbology, anyway. Erm, I like Ancient Runes too, actually." She stole a look at her Head of House, relieved that the woman was nodding slightly. Emboldened, she went on. "I dunno, I want to _create_ things, I think. Translating Runes is only fun because, well, because it goes back to the fundamental building blocks of magic, and you can play around with those." She didn't even know where that last bit had come from.

A flicker of a smile appeared on McGonagall's lips – had Lily just imagined it? "I see," the professor replied slowly. "So, what about a job in which you could learn to create your own spells?"

Lily gave this thought a moment's pause. "Create…anything? Really?" It had never even occurred to her, this idea. Then again, she hadn't thought about jobs at all, Muggle or magical. Oh, Isabella was going to be a Wizengamot intern this summer, and Fiona had her Healer ambitions, and even Emmeline had a plan, even if it was to marry a rich bloke (preferably one named Benjy Fenwick) and have half a dozen children. But Lily…Lily was the one who was trying to drift through life without a plan. Besides the whole flower shop thing. But this sounded…almost interesting, actually. She pasted a nonchalant smile on her face. "I'll look into it, Professor."

McGonagall sniffed. "Please don't lose this one." She handed the girl a dark green roll of parchment, labeled: "Spellcrafting: A Preparations Guide." "This has a list of recommended reading, all of which can be found at Flourish and Blotts. I'll see you at the beginning of next year to discuss which courses will help in this direction, if you are still interested." That last bit might have been sarcastic, Lily thought. Still, the idea of the job was intriguing, though perhaps the job wouldn't be. "You're dismissed – please send in Mr. Black."

Lily stood up and already had her hand on the doorknob when McGonagall said, "And, Ms. Evans – " Lily waited, slightly impatient – she had a lot to do today. "Have a good summer."

* * *

Five hours later, Lily could be found in her room, methodically packing. It was the last day of the term; exams were finished that morning, and she had nothing else to do, really. The feast had been good; she was pleasantly full, but she'd slipped away before everyone else so that she'd have time to walk through these hallowed halls one last time, alone. And so that she could avoid that Potter boy – he had been haranguing her all week about careers.

"Hey, Lily, I don't know if you've heard…" Lily looked up – Fiona had just walked into the room, twirling her wand idly with her right hand. "We have this thing called "magic," now." She paused for effect. "And it simplifies things." In demonstration, she waved her wand (Fee was great at nonverbal magic) and both of them watched as all of Fiona's clothing flew out of her drawers and into a trunk, neatly folding themselves as they did so. "See? Magic!"

Lily smiled faintly. "Never heard of it. I like doing things by hand. Keeps me humble, you know?" She rolled up a scarf and wedged it between two pairs of shoes.

"Whatever. Takes up more time," Fiona informed her. She held up a rather large amber bottle in one hand and a stack of cups in the other, smiling wickedly. "You ought to be proud of me – I managed to procure us some Firewhisky." Her eyebrows waggled. "With some…other, unnamable liquids too."

"Isabella will be so pleased."

"Isabella is pleased." Isabella Marquez strode into the room and grinned. "Hello darlings. I brought a pack of Butterbeer. Fee, I thought you were going to be out with Julian." She flopped down onto her bed, thick dark hair fanning out on the coverlet.

"And you with Michael?" Fiona retorted. She set the bottle down on her trunk and went to the mirror, examining her freckles closely. "Julian…wasn't extraordinary. I have yet to find such a boy. Why is everyone just second-rate?" The tall, thin girl pouted at herself in the mirror, then giggled and pulled her bright blonde curls out of a ponytail so that they fell on her shoulders.

"Well, Emmeline's not back yet," Lily observed. Of course, neither was Tracy, but her bed was practically always empty since she'd taken up with that Hufflepuff bloke. Tracy seemed to reserve a bit of disdain for her fellow Gryffindors, so, for the most part, Lily and her friends ignored the other girl. "And what do you mean, 'Julian wasn't extraordinary?' He's Head Boy – there's bound to be something special in that."

"Yes, but Emmy will settle. Fenwick is nothing special." Isabella pointed out.

Fiona laughed. "Don't let Emmeline hear that. And I think I'm done with our dear Head Boy. As of tomorrow, he's stripped of that status anyway."

Two scarves, a pair of jeans…a skirt. That damned green scroll. There. That was it. Lily closed the trunk and locked it with a satisfying set of clicks, then rested her cheek against the cool wood. It felt nice. "Guys," she murmured. "It's our last night."

"So it is." Fiona nodded agreeably. "Can we get piss-drunk now?" Fiona Adler – raging drunkard.

"Sure, now that I'm here." Emmeline appeared in the doorway looking a bit rumpled, her normally careful bun quite mussed, the skirt hiked too high. She wasn't even wearing her school robes – they were in a large bundle under her arm.

Fiona let out a low whistle. "Have a nice time with your little Ravenclaw, I see." The others giggled.

Emmeline, always so poised and confident, managed a disdainful sniff before she too collapsed into laughter. "He groped a bit, but all in all, rather satisfying."

"Erm, Emmy," Lily said. "Your shirt buttons don't line up."

She looked down. "So they don't," she said, bemused.

"That's okay. Here, look, I've got Firewhisky!" Fiona gestured to the bottle proudly.

"Where in Merlin's name did you find that?" Emmeline looked at it cautiously. "Spiked butterbeer is one thing, but we could get in trouble for – "

"Oh, lay off, will you? I didn't kill anyone for this, and Lily won't report us, right?" Fiona yawned widely, and Lily pretended to not see the flare of anger in Emmeline's eyes. The two girls had never quite gotten along. "If you must know, I bought it from Black. Maybe not exactly legal, but he and Potter have a stash."

"Of course they do. Can we drink now?" Isabella pleaded, sitting up. "I really want to forget the fact that Michael can't kiss a girl properly. Last time I checked, strangling a girl with your tongue is not very romantic."

Fiona wrinkled her nose in disgust, but obligingly uncorked the bottle and carefully poured some out for everyone. Lily passed the cups around, and they raised them together. "Can we toast extraordinary boys?" Fiona asked.

"Of which there are none, apparently," Lily said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, well, I expect to find some this summer," Fiona replied haughtily. "And Lily dearest, you'll have to help me. To extraordinary boys!" she yelled, and they all nodded and repeated the phrase, smiling.

As Lily looked around the room, watching her friends drink and chatter happily, she realized that this was one of those moments that she wanted to remember forever. The joy, the smiles, the ring of laughter. Sure, they would see each other over the summer, and they would be back the next year, but it wouldn't be the same. Isabella had turned seventeen in February, and Fiona and Emmeline had birthdays in May. Lily herself was a summer birthday. And when they came back to school, as seventeen, they would be of age, technically, legally, adults in the wizarding world. To be frank, the thought of adulthood frightened her. That meant decisions. And fighting. In a war that had been thrust upon them all.

And Lily wasn't sure that she wanted any part of it.

* * *

A/n: Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Penny for your thoughts?


	3. Letters and Messes

**Of Letters and Messes**

_Saturday, July 15, 1977_

"Lily! Mail!" The redhead jumped at the sound of her mother's high voice. Mum had never really taken to owls.

"Coming!" Lily yelled back, before rolling herself off the bed, blankets tangling around her legs, the book she had just been reading falling to the floor. Then she clattered down the stairs and smiled at the sight of a thick stack of letters. "Morning," she called out distractedly. She bobbed her head at her mother and Petunia once – Dad was already at work. Then she grabbed the stack and ran back upstairs.

The first was a long letter from Fiona – her first one from the other girl, actually, since the Adler family took an annual vacation to south of France and weren't allowed to write to anyone. Merlin knew Lily's family was not the sort to go off and have fun together, but Lily had never met Fiona's parents, so she couldn't judge them for their strange ideas.

But Fiona was well, she missed Lily; she was back, could they meet up in Diagon Alley today at four to catch up? Lily didn't even need to think about it; she scribbled back a hasty "Yes!", making a note to herself to tell Mum that she'd be out late. It had been weeks since Lily had gone out with anyone. Then she coaxed her little owl out of her cage and sent the note off.

The second and third were short notes from Isabella (who spent all of her waking hours with the Wizengamot now) and Emmeline (who was vacationing in France, trying to pick up a decent bloke before she had to come back and work at Madame Malkin's). Isabella was busy with a big trial at the moment; she was wondering if Lily was going to some party – thrown by Sirius Black? Lily folded up the note and slid it into a drawer of her desk - she could answer that later. Lily wrote to Isabella all the time, though the poor girl was swamped with work and so wrote back considerably less. Lily could feel pages and pages with writing – she was good at that. So it was a slight disappointment to her when Isabella and Emmeline sent back two-liners. Still, at least they answered.

Emmeline's note was short and rather cryptic, however. Attached was a photograph of her and some bloke, who was relatively attractive enough. They were in a café, smiling. Actually, he looked vaguely familiar…

_Lily – _

_Australia is nice. The bloke is Fabian Prewett – do you remember him? He's here working with some dragons. And tell Fiona she was wrong._

_Emmy_

Fabian Prewett…oh yes, hadn't he gone to Hogwarts several years back? Lily faintly recalled a bloke with nice hair and a wide grin. Oh well – even Fiona would acknowledge that he was more extraordinary than the usual lot that Emmy found. Anyway, why couldn't Emmy tell Fiona herself? But Lily had never been sure if her friends exchanged correspondence with one another, besides writing to Lily. She shrugged and tucked this note in her bag, resolving to show the picture to Fiona and pass along the message.

She turned to the rest of the pile. There was a letter from Hogwarts (probably school supply list – Lily tossed it under the bed, so that she wouldn't have to think about school for a little bit longer), a couple of magazine subscriptions, the _Daily Prophet_…and another letter. It was, surprisingly enough, from Potter. She smirked at the messy scrawl in blue ink, setting it aside to read later, when she perhaps needed cheering up. No doubt it was a cheeky request for a date, with one or two awful pick-up lines thrown in for good measure.

"Lily, do you want some lunch?" She was interrupted in her rereading of Fiona's letter by her mother, who was leaning against the doorjamb, fatigue wrinkling her brow and crinkling her eyes. Had her mum always had crow's feet, or were these new since Lily had been home for Easter break? "I made sandwiches."

Lily shook her head, a twinge of guilt passing through her. "If it's all right, can I go to London? I need to pick up a few things." Fiona would probably spend the whole time trying to pick up an extraordinary boy, but Lily desperately needed to get to Flourish and Blotts. Plus, she really couldn't handle another confrontation with Petunia at the moment – all that sniping about her menial job in Aunt Margot's flower shop and magic and her future, etc. What was it with people and being obsessed with jobs and flats and getting married? Wasn't she too young to be contemplating all this, anyway?

"Sure, of course. Do you need money?" her mum asked, lingering for a moment.

"Nah, thanks, though. Aunt Margot just paid me yesterday." She stood and started searching for clothing, smiling at her mother briefly as Clara Evans left and went back to the kitchen. That dark pair of jeans that made her butt look smaller…had she thrown it in the hamper? No, here it was, under her bed. She shucked her sweatpants and slid the jeans on before starting a search for that blouse that she had somewhere that supposedly went well with her hair…maybe under her library books? Or perhaps that pile of records…

Lily was good at being unorganized.

* * *

"Ack!" Lily jolted at the feel of a hand on her arm, startled out of her thoughts. Being naturally gifted at clumsiness, she bumped up against a display of beautiful hardbound books like _A Century of Goblin History_ and _War: A Goblin's Definition._ The display pyramid wobbled and Lily yelped as the whole thing collapsed at her feet. Damn. They were interesting books, all of them. Given time, Lily might even have made her way over and perused them as, but now she wouldn't get the chance, seeing as a Flourish and Blotts employee would probably haul her out on her ass immediately. Double damn, seeing as, at the moment, she was engrossed in another book altogether.

"_The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know_ by Professor Mordicus Egg. Sounds fascinating – are you philosophizing now?" a bright voice read over her shoulder. Lily turned and bumped up against James Potter, happily grinning down at her. Had he grown another couple inches in the last month or so?

"You look like a daft fool, Potter. Merlin, the world is so small."

"Yes, it is, isn't it? And I am dreadfully thankful for this fact, because, otherwise, I wouldn't have met you today in this nice little corner of this nice little bookshop."

"How fortunate for me." She had no sooner slid the book back into its slot on the shelf when a harried looking young man in a Flourish and Blotts trademark purple apron came over, gesticulating wildly with his hands, sputtering outrage at them. She blushed; the man's face was starting to match the color of his apron.

"C'mon, Evans." That hand on her arm steered her outside, and she went, sighing at the injustice of it all. When they were both outside, blinking in the blinding sunlight, she turned to him.

"Y'know, I wouldn't have been kicked out if it weren't for you." She was miffed – yes, she'd already bought all the books she needed, but how was she going to occupy the handful of minutes before Fiona showed up? They were meeting at Fortescue's…well, she could go there alone first, she supposed.

"Terribly sorry about that, Evans." He looked mildly apologetic, which counted for something, she supposed. "I just wanted to say hi, is all – "

"Oy!" All thoughts of her anger were forgotten when she was practically barreled over by a terribly excited Sirius Black as he burst from the doors of her favorite bookstore and launched himself at his best mate, his long hair flipping about and making a bit of a commotion in the street, actually. She was appalled by the giggling girls who passed by. "Prongs, did you forget me or what? Oh, hullo, Evans."

"Hi." She flapped a hand halfheartedly at him. "Your Prongs got me kicked out of Flourish and Blotts."

"He is a mischief maker, this one!" Sirius said. "Having a nice summer, Evans?" Potter shoved the other boy away, so that they stood side-by-side, facing her. She was struck by the differences in them, how Potter had been unfailingly chipper every time she saw him, whereas Black alternated between the two extremes of laconic depression and talkative excitement. Even now, Black's happiness was just so much _more_ than Potter's, like Sirius Black was realer than reality somehow.

"Yeah, I've been working. You?" she replied, adjusting her bags so that her grip on them was better.

"Well, Prongs and I have been up to our usual debauchery and tomfoolery, haven't we, Prongs dearest?" Black grabbed Potter's nose and rubbed it affectionately. "You see, you're looking at the two newest additions to the Ministry's set of poor, groveling interns. Except, if we keep messing with the messenger owls, they might fire us, I'm afraid. But how can I resist setting things on fire?" He flung his arms out wildly and struck a dramatic pose. She laughed. Black could be very strange.

Potter spoke up now, his eyes darting curiously from Lily to Sirius, and back again. "Did you get my note, Evans?"

"Erm…I think I saw something of the sort on my desk this morning, yes." It was partially true, in the sense that she had seen it. But if by "get my note" he meant "read it…" then she was a bit of a liar. "Was it important?"

"Uh…" He smiled at her in an almost pleasant but nervous sort of fashion. It was a strange mix of emotions that probably shouldn't coexist, since it made his grin rather awkward and almost menacing and his forehead was rather crinkled.

"If you were looking for a date, I'm afraid I'm rather busy," she said.

He cleared his throat. "No date."

"Oh." She blushed pink, feeling embarrassed for presuming such a thing.

"Prongs has got a bird, now," Sirius said suddenly. He flipped his hair in what was, presumably, a rakish manner. What was it with boys and their hair? Potter was always running a hand through his, Black was flipping it…even Remus had a tendency to twirl a strand around one finger, while Peter was a fan of unconsciously chewing a couple hairs.

"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow, hoping that her dry tone of voice would cover up the fact that she was feeling really, really embarrassed. Why had she presumed such a thing? Well, it was rather logical, since that's what most of his notes during vacations were about, when he bothered to send her notes, that was. Seeing as she only replied with short bursts of witticisms, she was frankly surprised that he wrote her at all. "Who is it?"

"Bridget, but I usually just call her Bird," Sirius said with a wicked smile. "She's a pretty little thing, almost as short as you, Evans."

"How…that's lovely, Potter. Very witty, Black." She paused. Hang on, didn't _Fiona_ have a cousin named Bridget? How many Bridgets could there be, after all – it wasn't exactly a common name, right? "Then your note?"

"Oh. Well. I'm…I'm Head Boy."

Well, there was something weird. But to be truthful, Lily really hadn't given the choice of Head Boy (or Head Girl) much thought. She supposed that if she'd had to pick, Potter was a reasonable choice – the school did seem to like and respect him. "Congratulations are in order, I suppose." Her brow furrowed. "Why write to me about it? Surely you don't need to beg for praise."

Black snorted. "Prongs can be a bit vain, now that I think of it."

Potter just looked at her.

"Dumbledore said…he told me that…well…" Potter took a breath. "Aren't you Head Girl?"

"What?" Lily didn't know whether to laugh or snicker at this absurd notion. "Have you lost your mind?"

"What? But Dumbledore wrote me – didn't you get a letter from Hogwarts? He said that I was, well, Head Boy, and that you were Head Girl, and that I ought to contact you so that we could talk before school started and – "

"A letter?" What letter? Oh. "This morning," she said slowly, thinking. What was the order of it? She tried to picture exactly what had happened. "There was a letter from Hogwarts. But I…" She looked at the two boys, who were staring at her rather strangely. "Well, I threw it under the bed, if you must know," she admitted, blushing again. Now they'd think she was a bad prefect or something. Which she was, but that didn't meant that everyone had to _know_.

"You…threw – it – under the bed?" James repeated weakly. "You?" At least she'd shaken that strange sort of chipperness from him. Chipperness. For people like Potter, this neologism was coined. Beside him, Sirius was giving her a thumbs up and a strange, reassessing sort of smile, his head tilted slightly to the right.

"It's just a letter about school starting again, isn't it?" She swallowed, hard. "There's no way I'm Head Girl."

"Why not?" Potter looked perplexed.

"Because…because…" Great. Now she was sputtering like that Flourish and Blotts boy in the purple apron and her face was probably purple like his and – "My marks aren't that high, I'm a terrible leader and I can't even think about a career in the future, and I don't even rat on people like that Ursula Gilmore in Ravenclaw – she out to be Head Girl! I'm lousy at Prefecting, too. I mean, there's a list of reasons why I oughtn't be Head Girl, whereas I can kind of understand why Dumbledore would make you Head Boy, even if you're not a prefect."

Sirius snickered again. "Why would Dumbledore pick Prongs as his boy toy, then? Personally, I think Bancroft was just a little too bland for the likes of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster extraordinaire."

She cocked her head. "That's a good theory. Ursula Gilmore fits into that – she'd follow his orders all over the place, whereas I would just forget them immediately after hearing them. I like that theory. How about it? I can see the _Prophet_ headlines: James Potter: Manslave."

Potter's eyes darkened behind his glasses, his eyebrows coming together so that he was now the Bloke with the Unibrow. Apparently he didn't like this humor of hers. Then again, when was the last time she had joked around with these two? She couldn't remember. "All the same, Lily, I am quite positive that you're Head Girl."

She shrugged. "When I get home tonight, I'll check. Under my bed, that is. Except that I won't be back until late, so you'll just have to wait around, I'm afraid. Unless Dumbledore owls you lot back saying that he retracts his statement, has come to his senses, and has already owled Ursula for the position. Hell, maybe he'll even demote me so that I'm no longer a prefect."

Both boys stared at her, a bit stunned. Was it the sunlight that made them so strange? It was a bit bright, after all. She shrugged - all this talking and nonsense had quickly whiled away the time – if she didn't go now, she might actually be late for Fiona, and that would never do. "It was nice to see you, Black. Potter." She nodded at them and turned, walking away, shaking her head at the strangeness of boys. She didn't think she would ever understand the likes of them.

* * *

"Exactly in time!" Fiona Adler shook her head wonderingly as Lily ran onto the tiny patio of Florean Fortescue's. "I don't know how you do it."

"What, no hello?" Lily reached over and hugged her, then pulled up a delicately iron worked chair and plopped herself into it. "France treated you nicely, I see." Fiona, always the beautiful one of the group, looked absolutely incredible. She _glowed_, all dark brown skin and sun-dappled curls, large blue eyes and a sun-burnt button nose.

"It was lovely, but even French boys are nothing special." Fiona sighed dramatically. "We shall simply have to try to find some tonight, my dear." She waved over a waiter and they placed their orders, Fiona's for two scoops of vanilla with caramel syrup and Lily's for a Sorbet Sundae, an "explosion of fruity flavors on the tongue," as Florean "Anyway," Fiona added, "I wrote all about France to you, but you haven't said anything to me yet! What've you done today? Yesterday? Last week?"

"Potter got me kicked out of Flourish earlier," Lily informed her. "And then I had a strange conversation with him and Black. Apparently Potter is our new Head Boy. Or as Black says, Dumbledore's Manslave." She left out Potter's strange speculations – it wouldn't do to spread rumors about herself that were most likely untrue.

Fiona let out a low whistle. "Manslave, eh? No wonder I never really took to Julian – I want a boy that can think for himself, you know?" She laughed. "I never thought of Potter as the complacent type, I'm afraid. Maybe Dumbledore sees something in him that we don't?"

"Perhaps." Lily smiled at the waiter in thanks as he set the ice cream down on the table. "Or he gets a kick out of breaking headstrong young boys?" She picked up her spoon.

The other girl giggled. "You make them sound like feisty horses or something."

"Well, they do call him _Prongs._" She dug into the sorbet, starting with the mango.

"Mmm…" Fiona sighed in delight, completely forgetting the subject at hand. "They don't make ice cream like this in France. Do you want a bite?"

"I'm okay, want some of mine?" The blonde girl immediately reached over for a spoonful. "This is the first time I'm in Diagon Alley this summer."

"Lil-leeeeeeeeee!" Fiona could stretch any word out into its individual syllables. "What've you been doing this whole time?"

"Working." Lily made a face. "Aunt Margot pays well, but it takes up a lot of time."

"Lily! How much work can there possibly be at the _florist?_" Fiona scoffed. "You're…cutting flowers, arranging them into pretty things – "

"Cataloguing flowers, fixing Aunt Margot's accounts," Lily said, smoothly cutting in and making a bit of a face. "I love her to pieces, but she simply doesn't have a head for numbers."

"Which you're good at." Fiona let out a dramatic sigh as she idly twirled her spoon in the rapidly melting slush that was the remnants of her ice cream.

"Well, better than Aunt Margot anyway. And she pays well too." Lily lifted one eyebrow, suddenly remembering something. "By the by, Emmeline wrote to me this morning. Wanted me to tell you that you were wrong about something."

"Hmm." Fiona scrunched up her tiny nose. "Hold it. Was there a boy involved?"

"Yeah, she sent a picture of some boy too. Erm… Prewett? Fabian, I think. What grievous error of yours is she talking about?" Lily asked, grinning slyly.

"Oh, it's nothing." Fiona waved a hand dismissively. "I told her there were no amazing boys in Australia. I've been there – even if they do have the most adorable accents, they're all sun-blind idiots." A typical Fiona statement – Emmy had probably taken it as a bit of a challenge.

With a one-shouldered shrug, Lily changed the subject. "And Black mentioned that Potter's got himself a bird."

"Really?" Fiona pretended to fall out of her chair in shock. "But how ever will he proposition you if he's busy with some girl? And who is it?"

"Her name is Bridget – don't you have a cousin with such a name?" If anything, Fiona's large eyes got even wider, and this time, she actually fell off the chair. Lily peered over the edge of the table. "Are you all right?"

"Mpf." She rubbed her head as she stood and slipped back into her seat. Then, she stared at Lily. "My cousin has been writing me every other day about some bloke named James that she met that is apparently truly extraordinary. You don't think – "

"It's Potter? How many witches and wizards named Bridget and James do you know?" Lily remarked drily. "Face it – by the end of next year, you and Potter could be related."

Fiona spat out the water she had been drinking. "I never want to hear you say such terrible things again," she muttered. "You, my dear girl, have an overactive imagination."

The redhead smiled apologetically. "It's part of why you love me, darling."

"You think I love you, anyway."

"Psh. Don't kid with me." Fiona waved over the waiter and paid with a Galleon, ignoring her friend's protestations. "You can buy me a drink when we hit that bar. You ready to roll?" Lily looked at what she was wearing – she had forgotten to dress accordingly, and now she was in jeans and a blouse while Fiona sported a green halter and shorts. Bugger. Lily would probably only have to buy Fee the one drink, seeing as how that other girl was sure to be picked up by lots of blokes, extraordinary or not. Too late now. "Let's get out of here." They stood and, arm in arm, made their way out of the little ice cream parlor, towards the closest bar they could find.

When Lily stumbled back into her house in the early morning, tipsy and dazed off of red currant rum and a bottle of Ogden's, the only thing she remembered was that she had kissed a boy, an extraordinary boy. A certain Thomas Bennington, in fact.

* * *

_My dear Ms. Lily Evans,_

_Thank you for your politely worded response to my letter. However, I assure you – there is no mistake. The entirety of the faculty stands behind my decision to appoint you as our new Head Girl. See you in the fall._

_Warmest regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Hogwarts Headmaster_

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the formatting in chapter 2 – the document manager does strange things with line breaks. But thanks for reading it anyway! I hope you enjoyed chapter 3, and reviews give me warm and fuzzy feelings.


	4. Conversations and Flower Arrangements

**Conversations and Flower Arrangements**

_August 23, 1977_

"HI!"

"Oh my fucking god – what is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? Are you joking? _You_ hit _me!_"

"Because you're always sneaking up on me! How was I supposed to know that you weren't a psychotic stalker?"

"Well, I never meant to – I guess you just startle easy." Potter gave Lily a heavy-lidded smile (which she supposed he thought was attractive). "You have a couple flower petals in your hair, by the way."

"Or maybe you're just crazy and much too quiet for your own good," she snapped back, feeling peevish. She finger-combed her hair, pulling the petals out and letting them flutter to the ground. Earlier that morning, she had stopped by the shop to check on a couple of plants that she had (magically) boosted the night before. The roses had taken to the Growth Potion a little too well; lucky Aunt Margot was away for the weekend – Lily could probably shrink the 4 metre rosebushes by then.

"Years of practice," he said proudly, taking a seat next to her. "Not even Filch hears me coming these days."

"Lovely," she said drily. "You can put that on your CV."

"Of course! I'll include it among my list of many talents." He handed her a warm cup, saying, "I brought you a cup of coffee." Potter drank from his own cup and hummed quietly.

"Thanks." Feeling mollified, she took the cup and sniffed, inhaling the smell of strong coffee fill up her lungs and exhaling it out into the cold morning air. It was weird that he was being so nice to her, but she'd accept it.

Potter pulled out a notebook and a quill; she was surprised to see him so organized. "All right. Can we talk about school now? You know, the reason we're here in the first place?"

"But of course. If it hurries this meeting along." Lily stared out at the old wooden playground, watching toddlers in blue pinafores and long pigtails run around and laugh in the bright early morning sunshine. Really, it was too early for her to be up during the summer. And on a weekend, no less! "Where are we, anyway?"

Potter smiled blissfully. "My mum used to bring me here when I was little. It's a good place to think. Of course, we used a Portkey then, but now that I can Apparate...we're in the country."

"Well, it's very pretty." She actually agreed with Potter, for once. They were good places to think. There was something about parks, about how they brought back all the memory and essence and happiness of childhood. She loved parks. "What did you want to talk about?"

He shot her a look that was almost annoyed. "We have leadership duties, remember?" he said patiently (though through teeth that were, quite possibly, gritted). "Have you come around to this idea, yet?"

She made a rude noise and clutched her coffee cup tighter. In truth, she had given this idea very little thought indeed, even if she had come around to accepting it. Lately, she'd been distracted by McGonagall's terse reminders about careers that came every two weeks…and a certain boy she'd met in Diagon Alley last month. "What exactly are we supposed to work out, anyway?"

"I dunno – patrol schedules, maybe? What did they talk about in the first prefect meeting last year?" He pulled out a crumpled list and squinted at it – she peered over and saw Remus's familiar, neat script, carefully outlining a list of Prefect Duties.

"I never paid attention, I'm afraid." She took another sip of her coffee, but it was already cold. Making a face, and, with a quick look around, whipped out her wand and muttered a quick Warming Charm. Ah. Much better. She loved being seventeen – loved the ability to legally perform magic. Having just come of age last week, she was having a ball, what with subtly annoying Petunia, as well as impressing her parents with how quickly she could clean the house while they were out.

"What?" Lily glanced over to see a strange, sort of reassessing look on Potter's face. "But you're like…of course Dumbledore picked you for Head Girl! And you don't pay attention in meetings?!"

"They're rather boring, if you must know. And if I ask around enough, somebody will usually drag me onto patrol when it's time. See, I really am a terrible prefect. And when did you get so organized?"

He let out a rather frustrated sigh. "Look, last time we met – before you ran off on your date with that bloke because you forgot that we had a meeting – we worked out what sort of events we ought to have, like that ball idea? What if we go over the tutoring session schedule? I know that the Head Boy and Girl organize that."

"I already apologized about last time. I have a terrible memory." And Thomas Bennington had been free that night. He'd owled her that morning, out of the blue, and she'd completely forgotten about Potter and his note the week before. Of course she'd said yes – Thomas was a good looking bloke with decent hair and a nice smile: a nice way to liven up her summer. "I don't have to tutor a bunch of children do I? I don't have any patience."

"Remus explained it to me. Once a week, I have to take a subject – Transfiguration, I suppose – and you take one too – Charms? Potions? I guess you could do anything you liked. Then we pick prefects for the rest. I have the list of prefects somewhere…" He started digging in his pockets for something, presumably the list or something. Potter looked half-decent today, with his thatch of black hair, a dark green jumper and ordinary dark trousers. He might have passed for a Muggle on the street, if it weren't for the Gryffindor lion emblazoned onto his scarf.

"Well, that should take care of that. We'll ask for volunteers when we get back to school. Merlin, Potter, don't you have anything better to do this summer than think about school? Isn't that the _point_ of summer?" She might say that to him, but in truth, she had finished all her summer reading immediately, if only so that she wouldn't have to think about it.

"I just want to be prepared, is all. Can we go over patrols?"

She sighed disparagingly. "Right. Patrols. Two people a night, yeah? How many prefects have we got – twenty-two? With us, that makes twenty-four. So, since patrols are six days a week, then we'll have a rotation of…two weeks, which means most people will patrol twice a month. Just put everyone on different rounds so that our lovely prefects get to patrol with different people each time. Dumbledore will like that. That should do it, right?"

Again with that strange look on his face! "And you say you don't pay attention…"

She explained her logic. "Well, I don't. But I got stuck with that Gretchen Crabbe all last year and she spent the whole time sneering at me. Wasn't exactly pleasant, you know?"

"So this whole system is really for your own benefit."

She smiled approvingly at him. "Now you're getting it." There was hope for this boy after all. "We patrol as infrequently as possible, _and_ I don't have to deal with Wretched Gretchen or someone equally awful all the time."

"I see. And…that's how you plan to do things?"

"Do what?"

"Well…run things."

"Uh, sure." She was slightly confused, but she shook it off with a long sip of her coffee, feeling the warmth trickle down her throat and into her stomach. "Do we have to go over anything else, then?" She was watching a couple on the far side of the park, curled up together on a bench similar to hers. They were in their early twenties and apparently very much in love. One look at their clothing and she decided that they were newlywed university students, here in the park on a Saturday morning to babysit a nephew. She imagined that they were picturing their own little family at the park someday, and loving the vision. Peoplewatching was a favorite pastime of hers.

Potter ran a finger down the list, frowning and mouthing words. "No, I guess that's it, really. We can meet on the train too, right? Isn't there a meeting?"

She yawned widely. "Is there?"

"Well, Remus always disappears for a couple hours during that ride, so…."

"Oh, yes. That meeting. Always terribly long and boring." Then a thought struck her and she brightened. "We could cancel it! Or make it really, really short."

"But then we wouldn't look very respectable, would we?"

"There's no hope for me, anyway." She stood, tossing her drained cup into the trash bin. "I have to go."

"Lunch date?" He blinked in the bright sunlight, looking up at her. "Bennington, isn't it?"

She nodded, feeling a warm and fuzzy feeling inside, though that was probably the remnants of the coffee doing its work on her.

"Me, too. Bridget and I are meeting up in a bit." He stretched and stood up, stuffing various bits of parchment into his pockets.

"Right." She lingered a moment, her mind wandering, before she realized that he was staring at her again with that indecipherable look on his face. "Well then, I'll see you later." With those last parting words, Lily Disapparated, excited for her date with Thomas.

* * *

Lily looked up into Thomas's bright blue eyes and smiled when he reached out and held one of her hands loosely in his. "Thanks a lot. I had a nice time." This was true, for the most part. Lily was rather good at telling little lies, the kind that never hurt anyone. This was that sort of lie. Thomas Bennington was a decent bloke, the kind Lily could have fun with. She thought that they were nothing serious. After all, in the course of one month they'd only gone on a few dates.

"Me, too." His smile was shy, gentle, almost. They stood on her front step (a perfect gentleman, he had insisted on walking her back to her house- she privately thought that perhaps he was bollocks at Apparating).

"So." She glanced down at her shoes, then back up at him. He was staring at her rather intently, too intently for her comfort.

"I'll owl you," he said.

She nodded her head and felt a flash of happiness when he quickly brushed his lips against hers. "'Bye." Lily smiled at him as he turned away. She stood on her step and watched him walk away from her, his strides long and easy. Then she opened her door and walked inside, mentally preparing herself to deal with her (usually) beloved family.

But what she found inside was nothing that she could have ever prepared herself for.

"Hello, out with Thomas, were you?"

"Lily, you didn't tell me that a friend was coming today."

"Yes, what is a _freak_ doing here?"

This tumult of voices greeted Lily the moment she walked into her living room; she paused mid-stride, trying to understand what was happening.

Fiona was seated on the couch, happily grinning up at her friend, while Lily's mother leaned against the doorjamb, curious and ever so polite. Petunia, the source of that scornful third voice, was perched in a chair opposite everyone, fingers bone-white from clutching a magazine in front of her face. Presumably, she didn't want to even look at Fiona. Lily felt a flash of embarrassment that her family should be so strange and unnecessarily rude, but, luckily, Fiona didn't seem fazed in the slightest. After dropping her house keys into the tray at the entrance, she said, "Mum – I didn't know that Fiona was coming. Mum and Petunia, this is Fiona. Fiona, meet Mum and my sister. Fiona, kindly ignore my sister – I expect that she's nervous because her new boyfriend is picking her up soon and otherwise, really, you'd never have met her at all, seeing as she has difficulty associating with my sort of people." She took a deep breath. "Right. Fiona and I will be upstairs, then."

"It was nice to meet you," her mother called out, as Fiona stood up from the couch and followed Lily out of the room.

"Merlin," Fiona breathed out when they got to Lily's bedroom. "You haven't really brought anyone over, have you?"

Lily shook her head, feeling herself flush a little red. "This is why. I need advance warning so that Tuney won't be around. And Mum just likes to know so that she can cook accordingly – she'll want you to stay for dinner. What are you doing here anyway?"

"I was bored. And curious. And I realized that we hadn't seen each other for a bit and I'm terrible at writing letters, you know I am." Fiona collapsed onto Lily's bed, spread-eagled on the baby blue coverlet.

"Piffle. I know for a fact that Isabella and Emmeline are around. Izzy said she saw you a couple days ago." Lily sat down at her desk and picked up a stack of letters that she'd left behind this morning, rifling through them quickly. "And you told me that Logan was home this week. I thought you'd want to spend time with him."

Fiona groaned. "He's _boring_. This is his only break from Auror training in over a year and all he wants to do is sleep and eat." She rolled over, resting her chin on a pillow. "How was Thomas?"

"He's nice." Lily yawned. The heat of mid-afternoon always made her sleepy. "I mean, I felt bad, because I was practically late thanks to Potter but thank Merlin for Apparition, you know?"

"Whoa, slow down." Fiona pushed herself up and sat on the bed, regarding Lily intently. "What do you mean, Potter? You saw Potter?"

"Yeah, this morning. We had coffee."

"Two boys in one day?" Fiona let out a low whistle. "My love, you're such a social creature these days."

"What?" Lily stuffed the letters into her bag, resolving to look at them tomorrow…or the day after. "Erm, hang on…Fee! Saturday is the _only_ day that I'm free – I'm working all the time now!"

"I don't get it. You don't exactly need the money." It was true – her father was a renowned professor at Queen Mary and Westfield College; there was talk that he would be appointed head of the department either this year or next. The Evans family had never lacked for money.

"I know. But Aunt Margot talked to Mum and they think that working will give me a real sense of proportion. I think I'm supposed to feel more grateful about my family and Hogwarts or something."

"That's a load of bollocks. I bet this mysterious Aunt Margot couldn't find anyone else that wanted to work for her."

"Yes, well, I like working with flowers." Lily swiveled around in the chair and faced her best friend. "So you've been at home, what, watching your big brother laze the summer days away?"

"Pretty much." Fiona jiggled her foot, saying, "But you're changing the subject on me. What happened with Potter? What could've possessed you to have _coffee_ with _Potter_?"

"It was school stuff, to be honest. He's taking this job rather seriously."

"Potter? Serious? Bollocks!" Fiona repeated.

"No, really." Lily laughed. "If anything, I'm the slacker in this working partnership."

"Lily Evans!" Fiona cried, her stern attitude rather ruined by the small pillow that she threw at the redhead. "The day you let Potter show you up – "

"He cares more than I do." Lily picked up the pillow and hurled it back. "He wants to be Dumbledore's manslave. I have no intentions of following such orders."

"Ah, disobedient, are you?"

"Yes, but Dumbledore persists in recruiting me despite my resistance."

"It's perfect! You can be a spy!"

"I'm partaking in espionage, now? How so?"

"Think of all the potential blackmail on Potter and consequently the Marauders!" Now there was a wicked glint in Fiona's eye – Lily felt the vague stirrings of fright. When Fiona came up with plans…the last time she'd had one, Isabella had wound up in the hospital wing needing Skele-Gro for her entire leg, Emmeline had to replace her entire wardrobe because everything had burned, and Lily was stuck with electric green hair and a purplish tint to her skin for two weeks. Needless to say, these plans usually didn't work very well.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea…"

"Oh, c'mon – everybody loves the _Marauders!_" Fiona fell back onto the bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. "We could actually get some dirt on them! You would be…Mata Hari! You could be on the inside, have exclusive information that we could use mercilessly! We'd go down in Hogwarts history. Don't you want to be famous?"

"No, you want to be famous, love. Can't we just have a nice quiet year ahead of us? I thought the idea was to be single and happy, the four of us together."

"But we could have adventure! Fame! Fortune!"

"What shall we use this fame for?" Lily swiveled back and forth, smiling, idly running a hand through her hair. She caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror: two girls, of middling height, one tanned and blonde; the other pale and red-haired. But Lily thought they were still rather identical in a fashion, both young and happy, lazing around on a golden summer afternoon. Sunlight streamed through her sea-green curtains, lending Fiona a certain fuzzy shine around her hair.

"For finding boys, of course!"

"You're just a little too obsessed, you know that?"

"What?"

"Nobody's ever going to be extraordinary enough to live up to your tastes."

"Well, is Thomas extraordinary?"

"Erm…"

"I rest my case."

"I wasn't aware that we were in court."

"It's a metaphorical case, my love."

"Fee, I just don't know him well enough to judge yet – "

"Bollocks! I only dated Julian for a month and a half. How long have you known Thomas?"

"Does school count? Because then it's like 8 years, really. And you ought to stop using that word, it's getting repetitive. But I'm not as outrageously exacting as you are and -"

"What is he even doing with himself these days? You never said. Can I also point out that you two never spoke at school?"

"Will you stop interrupting me already? He's training as a Cursebreaker, but he also tried out for Reserve Chaser for Puddlemere."

"But he was a terrible Chaser! Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw all the time because of him."

"I don't really know. I'm not exactly good at Quidditch or anything."

"Lily, you should just get rid of him already. You know, I think I might have been responsible for breaking his arm in a match once. Anyway, if you don't know by the 3rd date – "

"We're not even doing anything, really! It's not official or anything. It's just a summer distraction, that's all. I'm not like you – not every bloke has to be one that could possibly carry my babies in a couple years."

"That's not what I'm looking for!"

"Liar!" Lily chucked a wadded paper ball (the remnants of James' letter reminding her about the meeting from the night before) at the other girl, hitting her in the arm. "You want what Frank and Alice have, admit it!"

"Don't you?" They both sighed, thinking of that golden couple from three years back. Frank Longbottom and Alice Prewett had come back to seventh year already engaged and glowing with happiness, already planning for the future and their potential children. They'd been the golden couple, the two people that everyone else envied. They'd been dating since fourth year – everyone expected them to stay together for the rest of their lives. While Lily wasn't much for forethought and planning, the thought of Frank and Alice made her (and everyone else's) heart ache with just a little twinge of longing.

"Okay, well a little bit," Lily admitted, thinking of Alice's happy smile.

"And Bennington isn't it."

"Well, it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

"M'love, not him, please." Fiona rolled off the bed and started to slowly pace around the room, staring at the walls that had been painstakingly decorated by a nine-year-old Lily.

"It's nothing serious, Fee, just let it go, will you?"

Fiona grunted, which Lily took to mean assent. Then the blonde said brightly, "You busy tonight?"

"Uh, not really." Lily was wary.

"Great! Let's go into the city – we don't have to go to Diagon, we can stick to Muggle London if you like. And McKinnon's throwing a party. _And, _Logan was telling me about some bar he really likes."

"But I've been out all day already –"

"Yes, but how often do you get to see me?" Fiona turned and batted her eyelashes coquettishly at Lily, who rolled her eyes.

"I see you every day for nine months of the year, you know."

"I meant the summer. C'mon, you don't even need to change," Fiona said. Lily looked down at what she was wearing – a white pleated skirt and a green camisole. Compared to Fee's short pink sundress, Lily looked a bit…boring. Normal? She wasn't sure what the right word was. "Li-leeeeeeeeeeeeee…"

"Ah. You're getting a bit desperate for company, are you?"

"Li-leeeeeeeeeeeee……you're killing me here."

"But what about dinner with my Mum?"

"You don't' really want to eat with your family, do you?"

"Erm, no, but –"

"Nope. No buts." Fiona grinned.

Lily sighed, mildly exasperated. "Oh, all right. Only because it's you."

"You're a wonderful person. Saving me from my misery –"

"Boredom?"

"- and all that."

"Pray tell, what have we been doing since you got here?"

"Been boring. You talk too much. About a boring bloke. It's twice as boring."

"Potter?"

"No, Bennington, of course!"

"Oh, all right. Let's go. We'll find you someone you deem more interesting, okay?"

"Yessss!!" Fiona grabbed Lily's arm and practically manhandled her out the door.

"Wait, let me grab my purse and – Fee! Gerroff!"

"Hurry up! You're worse than Isabella!"

"You have the patience of a tiny little yappy dog sometimes, you know that?"

"…That's a retarded insult. You should work on those."

"Mpf! Do you want me to come or not?"

"I apologize. Can we go now?"

"Just let me tell my mom that –"

"Mrs. Evans! Lily and I are going shopping!" There was silence from downstairs. Presumably, Lily's family had left while she and Fiona were talking. Oh well. "I'll take that as consent from her. She really is a lovely woman, by the way."

"You talked to my –"

"Mother? Of course! Parents love me!" Fiona flashed her a shiny white grin. "Can we go can we gocanwego now?

"Yes, you impatient idiot." With that, Lily let Fiona do a Side-Along Apparition number on her, putting her life into her best friend's (hopefully capable) hands. With a bit of luck, perhaps Fiona would finally find a bloke and then she would stop pestering Lily about Thomas. Because Lily would never admit it, but Fiona's opinion truly mattered to her, and her dislike of Thomas was beginning to rub off on her.

ooo

_August 24, 1977_

Lily liked mornings. She was what people usually (and often with more than a dash of irritation) called a "morning person." She was more alert, happier, and better at focusing.

However, today, on this particular Sunday morning, she was emphatically not anything of the sort. In fact, if queried today, she would have been one of those irritated people who were not morning people. Lily stumbled off her bike and into the back of Aunt Margot's shop, wincing at the bright sunlight that filtered through the greenhouse glass. She'd biked because she didn't want to risk splinching in the face of fatigue and a mild hangover.

"Lily dear, I called you this morning to see if you could come in early," Aunt Margot said without even looking up from the plant that she was working with. Lily rather thought that Professor Hawking would have liked her.

"Sorry," Lily mumbled, before heading to her corner of the shop. A stack of orders that needed to be recorded and filed awaited her. "I guess that Mum didn't pass on the message." There really hadn't been time, though – Lily had overslept, and if her father hadn't come in with a question she'd never have woken up at all. Then again, Lily thought, Mum had never really liked Margot. Margot was Lily's father's older sister, and the siblings had always been close. Privately, Lily thought that they looked very much alike, with their sandy hair, wide-set brown eyes, and a thin blade of a nose.

"Actually, Petunia was the one who picked up the phone," Margot commented absently.

"Oh. That explains it." Lily opened a thick notebook and started in on the number-crunching, squinting at the words. _Harriet Jones – 2 Sunrise Bouquets for August 27__th__. Richard Ellison – 3 Romance Bouquets for August 26__th__… _

They'd been working in silence and the occasional mumbling before Lily was startled by the sound of her aunt's voice. "So you'll be starting school soon, hmm?" Margot said, her hands moving quickly as she put together a complicated bouquet. She had tried to teach Lily the art of flower-arranging, but Lily had only managed a couple of simple arrangements so far.

"Yeah."

"It's your last year, your dad was telling me. Any thoughts about your future?"

Lily generally hated this question. Because she hadn't really had an answer before. But it was a lazy Sunday morning and Lily liked the peace that came with working in a closed shop, so she said vaguely, "One of my teachers is suggesting that I go into this field. It's kind of complicated, but it involves creating spells." At first, Lily's parents had tried to hide their daughter's magic from the rest of the family, fearing that everyone else would react the way that their elder daughter had. But then Margot had burst into Lily's room to surprise her for her thirteenth birthday, finding Lily grappling with a textbook for Care of Magical Creatures that was attempting to bite her head off. Yeah. That pretty much clinched Margot's suspicion that her niece was something strange. Lily and her parents had been forced to come clean, but Margot had actually taken it rather well, even if she was initially wary.

"Oh?" Margot said, looking up at her niece for the first time. "This teacher…they think you'd be good at this…spell creating?"

"Well, I guess so." Lily bent over her work, frowning at the order forms. Had the writing always been so cramped? It always seemed to her that George's handwriting was needlessly messy. "She gave me books to read and stuff."

"And have you been reading them?" Margot knew Lily too well.

"Erm…a bit, actually. They're surprisingly interesting," Lily found herself saying. It was true – she had started skimming through the first one on McGonagall's list but something had actually caught her eye. The concept of weaving spells and to get them to draw from the strength of objects you imbued…not everything was about sheer power – sometimes you could work your way around your limitations.

"So do you think you'll do what your teacher suggests?" Aunt Margot asked, finishing the bow on the arrangement and starting another.

"I honestly have no idea," Lily said, putting the last order form away and closing the book. It was time to start in on the plants that she'd been carefully cultivating. Aunt Margot grew all of her flowers herself, in the back of the shop and at her house – to be entrusted with a couple of pots was an honor, Lily knew. "I mean, things are…complicated, in the world that I'm living in. I'm sure Dad has mentioned something to you."

"Oh. Yes, well he did mention some...political tension?" Margot's eyebrows came together in a confused frown.

Lily paused before shrugging. "Something like that." She didn't really want to get into all the finer points – she'd been reading the _Daily Prophet_ a lot recently, and she didn't like what she was reading.

"I see." Lily knew her aunt didn't. But what was the point of explaining? She glanced at the clock – her shift was almost up. When she finished, she decided, she'd go home and take a nap.

Eventually, Fiona _had_ found a bloke (a tallish, vaguely attractive boy that was surely several years older than her), but it had been near midnight before this had actually occurred. In the meantime, the two girls had ordered wine and a light supper at a nice hole-in-the-wall restaurant and proceeded to simultaneously shop and wander Diagon and the Muggle area thereof before they went to a party that Marlene McKinnon had put together. Lily always enjoyed these excursions – at school, the four of them were always together, making it difficult to talk properly about anything that truly mattered. But in the summers, she got the chance to write and see everyone on an individual basis.

"Lily?" She looked up from her musings to find Margot standing in front of her, one hand on a hip, the other wrapped around a potted plant. "You're done for the day. Is Thomas coming to pick you up?" For the last couple weeks, Thomas had thoughtfully come and walked her home, or taken her out to lunch.

"Not today – I saw him yesterday." She started to gather her things and clean up her workspace. It was one o'clock - on Sundays, Lily, her aunt, and her aunt's assistant George worked in the shop taking care of things from the week before and preparing for the next. Everyone finished at one and went home.

"Oh. Well." Her aunt moved to set the plant down and straightened, wiping her hands on her faded jeans. "Shall we have lunch, then, you and I?" She turned her head and waved at George, who smiled agreeably and sauntered out of the shop, grabbing his coat on the way.

Lily thought for a second, then shrugged. "Sure." She could postpone her nap – it would be nice to eat with Aunt Margot. She hadn't actually done it for awhile – with this newfound power of Apparition, she'd been shamelessly using it to get around. Petunia had snidely hinted that Lily was carrying around a couple extra pounds, but then again, her older sister spent a lot of time hinting things.

"Lovely." Margot slipped on a jacket and cast her eye around the shop, taking inventory and calculating what she needed to do the next day. "Let's go, then."

Lily nodded agreeably, following her aunt out the door. Yes, lunch would be nice. _Not seeing Thomas today would also be a nice thing,_ something in the back of her mind thought.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it – let me know in a review?


	5. First Days and Responsibilities

**First Days and Responsibilities**

_September 1, 1977_

This was it. Lily took a deep, shuddering breath - today, she took on that dreaded word - Responsibility. Was she ready?

Definitely not.

"Lily, do you need anything else?" her mother was saying. Her family was grouped around her on Platform 9 and ¾, a small family in a sea of small families, each with their own children mucking about the place. Well, Petunia was waiting in the car with this Vernon bloke, tight-lipped and coldly angry, but her parents were with her, and Lily tried not to be upset about her sister. Today was her day. She shot a defiant look at a couple of the Pureblood families who were giving her family disparaging glares. It was a good thing her parents did not notice (Lily went out of her way to keep her parents in the dark about the dangers and tensions in the current wizarding world). Thomas, standing next to her (he'd insisted on seeing her off, despite her insistent pleas to the contrary), noticed, though, and he put an arm protectively around Lily's shoulders.

"No, I think I'm all set," she replied. Her mother, trying not to stare at Thomas's actions, handed her an envelope and Lily pocketed it without looking at it - she knew that, like every other year, her mother had just slipped her some money. "Pocket change," she called it. Lily considered it to be some mixture of worry and guilt - they were paying so much for Tuney's uni fund, whereas Hogwarts had no tuition. To be fair though, her books and other supplies cost a fair amount.

"Be good, Lily dearest." She smiled as her dad kissed her on her brow. "I expect you to write to me as well as to your mother, yes?"

"Yes, Dad. Mum, tell Tuney I said goodbye?" Lily, holding various parcels and with her trunk at her feet, embraced her mother with some difficulty, holding on to her tightly. She was an adult now, she oughtn't to cry. Even so, she couldn't stop herself – her eyes watered terribly. "I'll see you both for Christmas, of course. You should go – you'll miss your own speech, Dad." Her father was giving the keynote at an important conference today. They hadn't planned it this way, but they could only spend a couple minutes with her before they had to leave. She was okay with this, she really was. She was an adult now. Besides, Isabella's parents hadn't come at all.

Both parents nodded, smiling briefly and proudly at their daughter before they left, walking cautiously through the barrier, though her mother didn't fail to raise an eyebrow at Thomas, as if to say to Lily, _Deal with him._

"Lily." Thomas's voice was deep and serious. Lily looked up at him. "I-I have something to say." He took a deep breath, evidently struggling with something.

"Yes, Thomas?" she prompted, casting a worried look at the train – according to Dumbledore's latest letter, she was supposed to be helping little first-years and other misguided students board the train. As other students passed by, they glanced curiously at Lily and Thomas, clearly wondering what a graduate was doing, standing on the platform and talking to her.

"Erm…well, that is to say – "

"Thomas, I'm in a bit of a hurry," Lily said, impatient. Of course, he knew that; he had boarded this same train for seven years of his life too. Out of the corner of her eye she saw all three of her friends step onto the train together. She knew she'd find their compartment later, of course, but she had wanted to talk to them as soon as possible. If it weren't for Thomas…

"Lily, I love you. And I want us to be a couple. Officially." The words came out slowly and seriously, as if each one required quite a bit of thought. She scarcely had time to blink, attempting to absorb the words, before the train whistle blew, signaling that she ought to be helping those eleven-year-olds get on, or they'd miss it entirely. She remembered being a lost eleven-year-old girl once.

"I- I've got to go," she stammered, not daring to look up into his eyes. "The train, and, I'll write to you, erm – " she fled before saying anything else, his words burnt permanently in her mind. With a swift motion of her wand she lightened her trunk and ushered it before her. She was crossing to the Hogwarts Express in swift steps, and then she was guiding younger children up the steps, answering questions and giving directions, helping others with their luggage and finally, thankfully, positively running down the narrow corridor and, spying Fiona's bright curls through a window, into that compartment. She was slightly out of breath and felt dazed, Thomas's words going round and round in her mind, a broken record that would not cease.

"Lily – okay there?" Fiona and Isabella were peering at her with a measure of concern. "Here, let me help with that." Fiona hurried forward and stowed Lily's trunk, as Emmeline gently took Lily's parcels. Lily slowly sat down on a bench, giving herself a moment to fully comprehend the ramifications of Thomas's pronouncement. She barely registered the fact that Potter and his lackeys were slumped opposite from her, staring with undisguised curiosity.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." _I love you._ Three little words. That meant what? Sure, they'd been "seeing" each other for the last couple months, but she'd never thought of him in any serious fashion. "I have a boyfriend," she murmured to herself. "I have a boyfriend," she said again, as if that made the fact more real and maybe even more palatable.

"You and Thomas are official? Since when?!" Fiona narrowed her eyes. "You didn't tell me that!"

"Erm…since five minutes ago?" Lily said weakly. She tried to ignore Potter's gaze, focusing her eyes on Fiona. "He said he loves me…"

"He _what_?"

"He loves me."

"Is this the same bloke?" Potter said, interrupting her and Fiona.

"Bloke? What bloke?" Black said, smiling winningly. Lily couldn't help but smile back at his infectious grin. Remus offered Lily a tired, sympathetic smile: _Boys will be boys._

"Thomas Bennington, wasn't it?" Potter said in a bored tone as he paged rapidly through a magazine.

"That Ravenclaw Beater from last year?" Black said, with a trace of scorn. "But he was terrible!" His upper lip curled slightly. "Him and Bancroft were the worst pair I'd ever seen!"

"That's what I said!" Fiona shared a look with Black, as Isabella inclined her head slightly. Fiona, Isabella, Potter, and Black were all on the Quidditch team together; these were the kinds of details that they remembered.

"Someone's talent at Quidditch is not a measure of them as a person," Lily retorted sharply. But of course that was how they saw the world, all black-and-white sometimes. These people were good; these others were not. The Ministry was good; Death Eaters were not.

"Of course not," Potter said softly, amidst all of the talking that the others were doing. Lily looked straight into his hazel eyes and she thought that there was something in them akin to understanding. There was also a flash of pain in his eyes, which caused Lily to raise an eyebrow, silently asking if he was fine. He shrugged slightly, listlessly. Strange. Where was the Happy James Potter who was all responsible and cheery? Aggravating, sure, but that was his normal state of being.

"Why so quiet, Potter?" she heard herself asking. Maybe focusing on someone else's problems would help her ignore the fact that apparently she was now a one-man kind of girl…with a boyfriend who _loved_ her She knew that she liked him, but love? Love implied commitment, and trust, and thoughts about _permanence!_ She was commitment phobic and had trust issues and as far as permanence went she'd only barely given thought to those Spellcrafting books because McGonagall had been pestering her all summer.

He shrugged again, saying nothing. Around them, Fiona and Isabella were loudly arguing about the merits of Puddlemere versus the Cannons (though Lily noticed that Fiona glanced at her constantly, as if worried about her), while Emmeline, Peter, and Remus seemed to be engaged in a card game. Or the aftereffects of such a game, anyway. Peter's lank dirty-blonde hair was dusty with soot and his cheeks covered in dirt, while Emmeline had just finished cleaning off her face, impeccable as always. She'd forgotten a dark smudge on the tip of her nose, but Lily decided not to mention it. Remus, the apparent winner of this explosive game, was lounging languidly on his corner of the bench, a self-satisfied smirk on his thin lips. There wasn't even a speck of ash on him.

Sirius leaned forward and loudly whispered to Lily, "Prongs just got dumped. About the time that another bloke was professing his love for you." She wasn't sure, but she thought she spotted a flicker of a mischievous smile playing around his mouth. Over the summer, he seemed to have changed a fair bit – his mood was usually lighter; he seemed more inclined to be friendly. Fiona had mentioned to Lily a couple weeks ago that he had moved into the Potters' house right after school got out – maybe that's what it was.

"Oh…" Lily breathed out, a little stunned (and a little amused at the vagaries of the situation – was it called dramatic irony?) "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," Potter mumbled, looking down at his hands. "It's…well, she didn't mean that much to me or anything. I just, you know –"

"He hasn't been dumped in awhile." Sirius poked a finger into James' stomach and James yelped, swatting his hand away. "Poor little fragile thing," he crooned, "ego all cracked and broken. Dare I say…shattered?"

"Was this Fiona's cousin?" Lily vaguely recalled a flash of dark hair and a sharp chin. "Bridget, wasn't it?" She'd met Fiona's American cousin last summer. Nice girl, even if her voice had been slightly too nasal for Lily's liking. She'd been a bit critical, too, overly proud of being a Yank. They hadn't really gotten along.

Potter mumbled something unintelligible, crossing his arms and staring at the ground. Black nodded dramatically at her, then unfolded his long legs and propped them on the seat, next to Lily, who looked at them and sniffed disdainfully. She pushed his feet off, but he gave her a lazy smile and just put them back onto her seat. Potter glared darkly.

"She said she wanted options in her last year of school. Didn't want to be tied down." He scowled. "I mean, I would've dumped her, you know, it's just that –"

"She did it first," Lily finished.

"Exactly!" He sighed. "And when I found out that she was Adler's cousin –"

"And Quidditch infighting would be bad," Sirius added.

Lily was intrigued. Potter was a people-pleaser, she knew, but that he should care so much about how Fiona felt…it was oddly touching, actually. But utterly pointless, in the end. With a furtive look at Fiona, she said in an undertone, "You should probably know that Fiona doesn't really like her cousin."

Potter looked up from his lap and stared intently at her. "Really? Bridget said they were close…"

Lily shook her head. "I wouldn't worry about it, honest." What she didn't mention was that Bridget, as a girl who was rather focused on shopping and flirting and temporary relationships, was not the kind of girl that Fiona got along with. Which was probably why Fiona didn't really get along with Emmeline. Fiona was complicated – she loved Quidditch and bending the rules and looking for the One, things that made her happy and inspired her. These were serious things that she respected, and shopping and temporal relationships seemed fleet and shallow.

She didn't know if Potter's taste in girls saddened her or not – had he always gone for that type of girl? This was the first time that she actually knew one of them – she'd never paid much attention before to the girls he picked out.

"Oh." He brightened visibly. "That's all right then."

"You were more worried about how Fiona would take it then how you actually felt about Bridget?" Did she respect him for this? Not really. In some ways, this overconfident boy was far more unsure than her about things. It was oddly sweet of Potter, but…she leaned forward and said softly, "You owe a girl the truth, Potter. If you don't like someone, you shouldn't string them along because of external factors. If you don't like them, you don't like them." He blinked, looking slightly perturbed, but she thought she saw a tinge of red on his face.

"And do you owe the truth to Bennington?" He said, equally as softly, eyes wide. She narrowed her eyes, resenting this turn in the conversation. Just because she –

To be perfectly honest, she actually had no idea how she'd felt. She'd best figure it out soon, since the poor boy clearly thought she didn't return the sentiment.

But it wasn't something she wanted to discuss with Potter. Hell, it wasn't something she even wanted to discuss with Fiona! Lily stood abruptly and checked her watch. "We should go to the Prefect meeting, shouldn't we?" she said curtly, looking over at Remus. Then she walked out before either Potter or Remus had a chance to object. With a spot of luck, Potter would forget about the whole thing entirely.

Her indefinable feelings for Thomas got in the way of her ability to pay attention during the prefect meeting. First there were the greetings, introductions of new prefects, policy change announcements, etc. This was Lily's third prefect meeting like this – she knew the routine like the back of her hand now. So she stood in front of this small group of overeager overachievers, leaning on a wall, not even noticing that she was jiggling a knee, or that Ursula Gilmore was spending her time glaring daggers at her.

Did she care about Thomas? He had been summer fun.

It was no longer summer.

So what was this? He'd _graduated_. He was older and good looking and –

If she didn't date him, she'd be alone. Did she want to be alone?

Did she mind?

"- and, as I'm sure you're all aware, prefects are allowed to dock points for reasonable misconduct, but prefects cannot dock points off other prefects. Does anyone have any questions?"

Not really. Being single meant nothing – she had her mates; she was a busy girl. Did she even have time this year for a boy? It was her _last year_. She wanted to enjoy it, have fun in every possible minute.

Bugger.

Now she had to deal with this. How was she supposed to deal with this?

"Yes. Hey, Lily – if Potter here and his friends break rules, can I take off points?"

She could dump him.

Or she could keep him.

"Lily?" She blinked. One of the Ravenclaw seventh years - Hannigan, wasn't it? She had asked this question in a manner that could only be described as "snarky," her lips curled and head cocked.

"Erm, well, according to the rules – " Groans all around. Lily took a break from her puzzled musings to actually _look_ around at this year's crop of prefects, these model children with their perfect records. Merlin only knew why Dumbledore had picked her and Potter. Maybe to have contrast?

Maybe even Dumbledore made mistakes.

But seriously. These children...they were absolutely hopeless. Didn't they say what they were doing with their lives? They worked so hard, day after day, slaving away for grades. And for what? A future? Schools? Careers?

"- no, you can't take points from the Head Boy or Remus. From a certain Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew, though, by all means," she finished, glad of the smiles that flickered on some of the prefects' faces.

Thomas wasn't like that. Sure, he'd been a prefect. But she remembered that he'd always had a friendly smile for her, or a light joke during tension-filled meetings. That was one of the things she'd initially liked about him.

Enough.

She wouldn't see him until at least winter holiday – for now, she was going to push all thoughts of Thomas out of her mind and _focus._ She didn't need to do anything immediately. And Potter was shooting her _looks._ She didn't like those. Lily stopped jiggling her knee and tried to paste on a face that was simultaneously attentive and innocent. She hoped she succeeded.

"Right," Potter was saying. "Any other questions?" He glanced down at another list that had Remus's handiwork all over it. There was silence; several fifth years shifted uncomfortably. They probably had questions, but Lily was sure they'd ask them later, in a more private setting. None of these liked to be the students who admitted to not knowing something. "Great. You have" – he glanced at his wristwatch – "a couple hours until we get to school. When we do, make sure you help new students find their way. You're all dismissed." Everyone scattered, running back to their friends. Lily made a move to leave, but Potter put a firm hand on her arm, the way he'd done months ago – but Lily didn't jump and knock things over this time. That had to count for something. "Lily, can I have a word?"

"Erm, sure." She fidgeted, staring at her shoes.

"Look." Lily pushed herself off the wall and glanced at Potter, who was sighing and running a hand through his hair. He looked anxious. "I don't know what you're playing at, Evans. I mean, I know that you couldn't believe that you were Head Girl, but, frankly, you were the best and obvious choice."

"Oh, please." She shoved her hands deep into her pockets so that she'd stop twisting them together. When had she accumulated such sorry nervous habits? "Dumbledore's mad, we all know it," she said flippantly, dismissively.

"No, he isn't." He was starting to compress his lips into a thin line and had tightly folded his arms across his chest – this probably wasn't a good sign. "See here, Lily. You deserve to be Head Girl. You really do." She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off with a curt gesture. "_Listen to me._" He frowned. "Look. I wasn't ever a prefect, y'know? Nobody ever gets chosen for a Head position without being a prefect first." He ran a hand through his hair again. "I don't know what Dumbledore's thinking, Evans. Those prefects don't like me. Hell, they don't _respect_ me. Why should they? They're been docking me points for years! But I know that he picked _you_ because you're smart and capable _and _you're Muggleborn, which in this day and age means something. _You_ make sense. Or at least, you would, if you would help me out a bit. Show a little leadership? Because Dumbledore picked us and fuck if I want to do a decent JOB!" he shouted.

She could feel herself flushing at his sharp words; she'd never taken reprimands well. At the moment, she found herself at a complete loss for words. They stood there in a stunned silence, staring at each other, eyes wide.

Then he sighed heavily again. "I'm sorry," he muttered eventually. "I didn't mean to shout at you." Now his tone was sheepish, a faint tinge of red coloring his cheeks. "It's just…I can't do this job alone, y'know?"

The last couple of words of his impassioned speech hit her. "What do you mean, Muggleborn? How is that relevant?"

James merely raised an eyebrow. "War, Lily. Everything Dumbledore does now matters. It's partly a political statement. You would've been picked anyway, but being Muggleborn helped."

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Personally, I think there are dozens of other girls who would have been better for the job."

"Like who?" he challenged. "Name one."

Lily opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. He was right: Fiona might have laughingly abused the power, and Isabella acted haughtily superior to the younger students, while Emmeline simply didn't have the marks. The other seventh-years would have followed instructions to the letter at a school where you always needed to be flexible. Lily…had decent marks and at least pretended to be helpful. But she was a lousy prefect; she _knew _that.

She supposed that she was the "lesser evil" in this instance. Was that what Dumbledore had been thinking?

Potter was smirking – damnit; she hated that smirk.

"Okay, fine." She crossed her arms and glared. "But it doesn't surprise me that you are Head Boy, Mr. Quidditch Captain. Obviously people like you," she spat out.

The smirk disappeared. "These prefects have never taken me seriously, Lily. Admit it – _you've_ never taken me seriously."

She didn't like it, but she had to grudgingly admit that he had a point. On more than one occasion, Lily had ignored whatever Potter was saying about anything.

He was still talking. "Thing is, after I got the badge and the letter, I started to actually get a sense about what my parents had been talking about all along. Especially with Padfoot around – the war seemed to me just that much realer, those abstract ideals seemed more important." He smiled briefly. "Padfoot says I've changed. Then again, he's always been a bit loony, and wouldn't know change if it came and hit him in the face. "

After a moment, she said slowly, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I just..,have a really hard time dealing with responsibility. I mean, I'm nothing special, and I don't think I deserve this, this job. You just have to give me time to, like, turn this position to my benefit, yeah?" Lily was rewarded and encouraged by a faint smile on James's lips. "I'm just kind of lost, y'know." He'd stopped frowning, and now he was giving her a fairly blank look. Hmm. She kept talking anyway. "And they do respect you." She amended that thought. "I mean, they will respect you. Why, you're the very image of respectability." He barked a short laugh. "We _will_ be fine. Okay?" They both cracked weak smiles, feeling the tension in the room slowly dissipate and vanish. She turned to leave, but again he stopped her, his forehead slightly wrinkled. "What, Potter?" she asked, feeling rather tired of all this nonsense. She just wanted to go back to her friends and curl up into a ball until they got to school where she'd have to be alert and proactive and have to help children again.

"I've been thinking, Evans –"

"Never a good sign," she muttered, not able to help herself. He shot her a look.

"Will you let me finish, already?" He started again. "I've been thinking…that we should be friends."

This pronouncement was followed by a long silence. "Aren't…we…friends?" Lily asked cautiously, peering up at him, her hand falling from the door handle to hang limply on her side. Sure, they weren't close friends or anything, but they'd always talked to each other, even if it was usually him half-asking her out and her generally turning him down. Sure, sometimes she took points off him and got upset when he called her names and sure, she'd never liked the fact that he and Sevvy hadn't gotten along (and of course, there was that incident in fifth year that had been unnecessarily cruel and she'd completely snapped, but he was different now, wasn't he?), but she hadn't wanted to interfere with a feud between two boys that she had no idea about, but yes – she generally considered them friends. Or acquaintances. Or something, anyway. Maybe not exactly friends, then.

While she'd been standing there thinking, Potter had continued to wrinkle his forehead, looking upset. "That's not what I meant, exactly. It's just that…well, I mean" – Lily's attention span was short-lived, she hoped that he would get on with it – "It's just that we've known each other for years, but we haven't exactly gotten along, if you know what I mean." He was repeating himself. Wasn't he? "I just think that since we have to work together and all this rot, we _should_ work together."

"We both should present an image of respectability," Lily said with a laugh.

"Exactly. So. To respectability?" James slid the compartment door open, his eyes a dark and intent hazel.

She ducked under his arm and out the door, hating this feeling that something serious had just changed and wanting to get away from it. "Only as an facade, of course!" As she and Potter traipsed down the corridor, and back to their friends, she felt a small laugh come bubbling up to her lips. Maybe this Head Girl wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

* * *

_Dear Mum,_

_Hullo. Just wanted to say that I got to school okay – everything here is the same, which is nice, I guess. How was Dad's speech? Hope it went well. Fiona says thank you – I gave her that box of brownies you baked, like I promised. Anyway, sorry this is so short, but Fiona and Isabella want to go talk right now and compare class schedules or something. I'll write a longer letter tomorrow. _

_Love,_

_Lily_

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this installment! Let me know in a review, pretty please?!?


	6. Getting the Last Word

**Getting the Last Word**

_September 12, 1977_

Lily was the first to admit that coming back to Hogwarts this year felt strange. Sometimes, as she walked through the hallways, she still felt like that little first-year who knew nothing about wizards or Muggles, meandering through the sprawling castle and hauling around bulky textbooks about subjects she'd never heard of. She remembered looking up to the seventh-years, remembered envying their confidence and sureness of step when it came to important matters. When she was a first-year, the seventh-years had seemed tall and poised.

But that's not who she was now, not really. Now, as an actual seventh-year, she felt none of that. Sure, the first-years seemed miniature and generally innocent, but she still thought that she was awkward and that she knew that she had no idea about anything important at all. Sure, she was more knowledgeable now, but not really. And not only was she a seventh year, she was _Head Girl._ She was in a position that some people craved and envied (such as Ursula, that Ravenclaw twat). Apparently, people looked up to _her._

Ah…if only those "people" could see her now. Once again, Lily was slumped against the floor in front of McGonagall's office, waiting for her first Career Advisory of the new year. Huzzah.

"Oh, hullo, Evans." She craned her neck to peer up at Remus, who had apparently just come out of the lair of the dragon, and looked the worse for it. He was clutching a dirty, balled-up piece of parchment in one hand and his Gryffindor scarf in the other. The tall, lanky boy tried to give her a weak smile, but it wobbled and collapsed before it had finished manifesting. Something was definitely wrong.

"Hi." She scrambled to her feet, feeling a flash of guilt for being caught moping like this. Slinging her bag onto one shoulder, she quickly rubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe away the fatigue. Why were these sessions held at night? "Are you all right?" she asked automatically, noting his red eyes and runny nose. Before he could answer, she said, "Here," – and briefly rummaged through a pocket before she found what she was looking for: a slightly grimy handkerchief, but it would do – "take it." Remus took the proffered fabric with a nod of thanks and blew his nose, hard.

Then he looked at the handkerchief and blushed. "I'll, uh, wash it and, uh, get it back to you." He stuffed the parchment into one pocket before she got a chance to sneak a look at it.

"No worries," she waved a hand dismissively, purposefully being facetious. She'd learned from experience that when someone was being emotional, it was better to act as if nothing was wrong – people seemed to prefer that. She knew she did. "Keep it as long as you need it."

He mumbled something, but just then, McGonagall called out Lily's name, and she knew that she had better go in quickly, lest the woman get angry. "I'll see you later," she said mock-cheerfully, then sauntered into her professor's office, trying to mentally prepare herself for the ordeal. She was _so_ not ready for this.

McGonagall didn't even look up from whatever she was writing. "Good evening, Miss Evans. Please take a seat."

Lily did so, trying to figure out the best way to ask her question. The only sound was the scratching of the woman's quill – Lily waited, but McGonagall didn't seem inclined to pay attention to her. Finally, Lily said lightly, "Is Remus all right?"

At this, the severe woman put down her quill, raised her head and narrowed her eyes at Lily. "Why do you ask that?"

"Oh, gosh, I don't know." Lily tapped a finger to her chin, pretending to think. "It just _might_ have something to do with the fact that he was practically in tears, Professor." She stared levelly at her Head of House, and part of her wondered why she wasn't acting all meek and disturbed and confused like normal, but most of her just kept seeing Remus's face and that wobbly smile. She was surprised to find herself strangely calm, though it felt like she burned inside with a coil of anger.

McGonagall's face showed surprise, but she soon smoothed it over and resumed her blank look. "It is none of your concern, Miss Evans. I am quite sure that he will be fine. He has some…difficult decisions to make. As I am sure you are aware, he has a…condition."

Condition? Oh…his illness. He was rather sick, actually. Lily frowned, seeing a large flaw in this argument. "What about the Antidiscrimination Disability Act of 1853? Surely he can –"

"_Enough_." Lily shut up immediately – she'd only heard McGonagall be so stern on very few occasions, and at that, only to Potter and Black. There must be something McGonagall wasn't telling her. "This is a session about _you_, Miss Evans. Did you receive my letters over the summer?"

"Yes." Lily made a mental note to find Remus later and make sure that he was doing okay. "I did some of the reading, actually." She pulled out a couple books and placed them onto the desk.

"And?" McGonagall prompted. She looked pleasantly surprised, which was probably a good thing – Lily knew that she was far from McGonagall's favorite student, but she usually did all right.

Her fingers skimmed over the cover of the top book, tracing the dark green etchings round and round. "I'm not sure."

"Please, do explain." McGonagall was raising a skeptical eyebrow – Lily was starting to dislike that eyebrow. That eyebrow seemed to indicate McGonagall's mood, and the eyebrow seemed to be saying: displeasure.

"It was interesting," Lily admitted. "But I've been thinking." Had she? Did she need to start lying again?

"Highly unusual. Do continue, Miss Evans." There was a sort of world-weary quality to McGonagall's voice – they had been down this path many times, both in these damned sessions and Transfiguration classes.

Lily didn't know how to say this. The words felt thick in her mouth, as she struggled to sort out truth and lies. The best lies were rooted in truth, after all. "It's…not, well, it's just not what I want out of a career." There. It was all out there. Well not really. The truth was that this line of work, as she read more into it, strongly (and painfully) reminded her of those past years with Severus, when they had huddled over textbooks and come up with spells. He'd had the gift for inventing them, but she'd always been better at the fine-tuning, the precision work. And she didn't think that she could face the past so soon. Of course, she couldn't tell McGonagall _that._ She needed to come up with something else.

"It's not?"

"I mean, I like the concept of it, I do. But…" She blinked, remembering that little first-year girl she'd been, so many years ago. "When I was little, Professor," she couldn't believe she was saying this, "When I first got the Hogwarts letter, I pictured magic as the end-all be-all, you know?" McGonagall looked confused; of course, she belonged to an old wizarding family – she couldn't possibly understand. "Like, I figured that I could use magic to end world hunger and bring peace. Stop wars. Big things." She smiled reminiscently. How naïve she'd been! How idealistic and unrealistic, talking about these global problems that no one else seemed to care about. "Then, of course, I learned that magic, like any other resource, has its limits and laws.

"Like this current "war." I know it's not official yet or anything, Professor, but it will be any day now." She took a deep breath. "War is inherently part of human nature. I know that; I really do. But nevertheless, I still feel like I ought to try to do something about it." This was truth. This was real. She paused, and laughed. "It sounds silly, I guess." She looked down at her hands, and wondered where she was going with this. "But I've been reading the _Prophet_ and thinking about politics and wars and all those bigger things that I haven't thought about in years." That glint in McGonagall's eye was back – she seemed to actually be taking an interest in what Lily was saying. Was that good? Lily pressed on, feeling that what she had to say needed to be said – these were thoughts that Lily hadn't yet fully voiced to herself. "I don't know what I want to do, exactly, it's just that I want to do something. Something important."

"I see." That's it? That's all she had to say? Lily blushed; this outburst was more than she'd ever said to McGonagall all at once, in all seven years. As the seconds ticked by, Lily began to grow restless, fidgety. Her knee started jiggling and she quelled it with one hand. McGonagall still wasn't saying anything. Her mind raced – what was her professor thinking? Was Lily crazy? Quite possibly.

Bollocks. Would the woman just say something already? Lily couldn't take it anymore. She lifted her head to look, only to see that McGonagall had picked up her spectacles and put them on. Lily felt like some sort of specimen being examined under a giant lens. Finally, McGonagall said, in a voice that was softer than usual, "You are full of surprises, Miss Evans."

"I am?"

The older woman rifled through her papers, pulling one out from the bottom of the stack. "When you left for the summer holiday, I thought that you would be ideally suited for a position in research, or perhaps as a Healer like your friend Miss Adler. I did some inquiry in order to come up with Spellcrafting as a suggestion." Lily gulped – McGonagall was still giving her a piercing stare. "You have always been among the most apathetic of students about the war – and you are right to call it a war – and that is part of the reason I recommended you for Head Girl." Lily tried really, really hard not to look surprised. She had thought that perhaps Flitwick had picked her, or maybe Slughorn – the two professors that actually liked her. But the thought of McGonagall had never crossed her mind. "Hogwarts has always striven to be neutral and to act as a haven; we cannot afford to produce partisan students – Hogwarts students should make up their own minds about which side they are, without the influence of their parents. I thought that you, as an impartial student, would set a good example." She smoothed out the parchment carefully. "And now you come back to school and say that you want to do something about this war." She shook her head, as if in disbelief.

Lily tried to look apologetic, though she mostly just felt confused. This meeting was going very strangely – she was sure they'd never exchanged so many words. If only Emmy could see this – she was always making fun of the redhead for not being a model student slash prefect. "What do you suggest, then?"

McGonagall's mouth twisted into something very much like amusement. "I never thought that I would say this to you, but have you considered applying for Auror training?"

Lily blinked, rather thrown. "Me? B-But I did so badly on my defense O.W.L.! And it's such a…_boy_ thing!" she sputtered. "Surely you have enough boys clamoring for a recommendation!"

"Well, yes," the older woman conceded. She leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "But most of them are – well, not suited for the position. Take Pettigrew, for instance."

"Professor!" Lily pretended to look shocked, but she knew it was true.

"Miss Evans." McGonagall's tone, always serious, became graver than usual. "Despite your E in Defense – which is only considered bad by your standards – you did rather well on the practice N.E.W.T.s last year; didn't you see your marks?"

"Er…"

"With strong recommendations and a decent essay, you would very likely be accepted into Auror training."

"Do you really think so? It's the last job I've ever thought about," she admitted. It was a Potter kind of job, actually.

"That might be why you are ideally suited." McGonagall smiled slightly. "I often find that we are most suitable for things that we do not want." She gave Lily a dark blue brochure that glittered with silvery writing. Lily recognized it – the one that Potter had initially shoved at her in the library last spring. It had been such a long time ago…Maybe he'd actually been on to something. Lily sighed and took the pamphlet, tucking it into her bag.

"Do take a look, Miss Evans." She regarded the seventh-year keenly. "I will not owl you here, and applications are due in December."

"Yes'm."

Silence. "…you are dismissed, Miss Evans."

"Right. Sorry."

"And our next meeting is in two weeks. Try not to forget."

"Erm…Thanks, Professor."

"… do you need something, Miss Evans?"

"It's just that…Potter thinks we were picked as a political statement."

"Do you really think that I would have recommended both of you?"

"But…but –"

"Just because he has a gift for Transfiguration doesn't mean he is a good candidate for Head Boy. You'll have to ask Dumbledore about that one. Enjoy the rest of the evening. And on your way out, if you wouldn't mind telling Black to stop loitering and thinking up pickup lines and just come in already, I would appreciate it."

"Erm, 'bye, Professor."

ooo

_September 13, 1977_

"Lily, do you have that essay for Flitwick?" Emmeline popped a grape into her mouth and washed it down with some pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Can I take a look? I'm a little confused about the third question."

"Sure. Mine's not very good though." Lily bent over and fumbled through her bag. She found the correct parchment and pulled it out, handing it to Emmy. "Here." Then she noticed that a small blue pamphlet had tumbled out and fell onto the floor. She tried to put it away, but Fiona snatched up the pamphlet before Lily could stop her.

"Oooh. What's this?"

"Fee, it's nothing. Fee!" She stared at her friend, feeling helpless and the faint stirrings of annoyance.

"Lily Evans!" Fiona unfolded it and scanned it with her eyes. "Are you considering Auror training? What happened to that other weird nonsense that you wanted to do?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw Potter and Black perk up and glance over from where they were sitting by Isabella. "Erm, you mean Spellcrafting?" She had mentioned it briefly over the summer, but she was surprised that Fiona had actually listened.

"Yeah." Fiona waggled her eyebrows – something Lily had never been able to do – and said brightly, "Changed your mind, have you?"

"McGonagall gave it to me to think over." Lily stabbed at a piece of pasta with her fork, trying not to get angry. "But I haven't made any decisions yet." She didn't want to discuss this with anyone, and she definitely didn't want to discuss it over lunch in front of everyone.

"So, Lily, are you making decisions, then?" Lily groaned; James was leaning over Isabella and speaking loudly, teasingly, drawing more attention from other students. He eyed what Fiona was waving around madly. If anything, his smile widened. "Didn't I give you that one last year?"

She granted him her most withering glare. "McGonagall gave it to me yesterday," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm _thinking_ about it." They had agreed to be friends, perhaps, but they hadn't exactly defined how _close_ of friends they ought to be. She'd never be bosom buddies with the boy, that's for certain.

"Oh?" He blinked innocently, long lashes fluttering. The effect was ruined by Isabella, who was grumbling and poking him in the shoulder – he was obstructing her ability to eat lunch properly.

Black leaned forward as well, grey eyes gleaming. "We sent in our applications last week."

"But they only just became available!" Isabella said. Lily shot a surprised look at her – had Izzy been thinking about becoming an Auror? Was everyone thinking about that? Merlin, she knew that it was a hot topic, but -

"This is the only thing that these two have ever been early for," chimed in Remus, from where he was sitting across from Black. Peter nodded agreeably. Lily looked at him with undisguised curiosity; she had looked for him last night, but he hadn't been around, and he had been uncharacteristically silent in classes this morning – this was the first time she'd heard him speak since yesterday. He looked, well, paler than usual, but overall, he seemed to be all right. She hoped he was all right – he seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

Fiona was talking. "I just don't see what the big deal is." She was voicing what Lily was thinking.

James looked askance. "Moody has never taken more than three Hogwarts students in one year!"

"Who's Moody?" Lily took of a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"Thanks, Lily. It makes more sense now." Emmeline handed her essay back. "Good thing it's not due for a few hours – I can make a few corrections to mine."

"No problem." Lily folded it back into her bag and turned back to the table to find Potter goggling at her, eyes wide.

"Who's Moody? Who's _Moody?_"

"Must you repeat everything I say?"

"Moody's only the…he's the bloody head of the Auror Department!" He appeared to be rather scandalized.

She tried to stay calm, but she was failing miserably. "That's nice."

"How can you even _think_ about applying if you – "

"Oh, sod it, Potter." She lobbed one of Emmeline's grapes at him, aiming for the forehead but missing, hitting him on the nose instead. She was so sick of this shite, all this nonsense about the next year and jobs and the future! They'd only just started this school year – was she the only one that wanted to live in the now? Ignoring his yelp, she grabbed her bag and prepared to leave, wanting to get away from all of this.

"Evans? Lily Evans?"

"What?" She turned to find a little third-year standing by the table, a Jennifer whats-it, probably, with long blonde pigtails and a large book in her hands. She looked nervous. Lily tried to wipe the angry expression from her face and paste on a pleasant smile that she hoped wasn't too frightening. "Sorry – can I help you?"

Jennifer? Jenna? Janine? looked down at her feet as she said, "You're Head Girl, right?" Behind her were two other little girls, fidgeting and nudging one another quietly. They all looked identical, with their pigtails and bookbags.

"Erm, yeah, that's me." Lily waited, conscious of everyone around her still talking about jobs and departments and schools. She heard "Auror" and "Healer" and the occasional "Cursebreaker" or even "Quidditch player." Fiona and Black seemed to be making fun of Emmy's Plan to meet someone wonderful and rich – Lily silently hoped that she wouldn't have to mediate the fallout that was sure to ensue. Since they'd gotten to school, Fiona and Emmy hadn't had an epic row yet, and they were a couple of weeks overdue.

Jennica. It was definitely Jennica – she slipped a piece of parchment out of her book and handed it to Lily. "It-it's for our Muggle Studies class," she explained. Lily tried to look encouraging, and maybe it worked, because Jennica had brightened slightly. "Professor Wigglesworth assigned us a yearlong project, and we need to interview a Mugglebornn who seems in-inte-integrated into wizarding society and has a position of leadership, and we-we, umm, were wondering if we could interview you."

Lily didn't know what she had been expecting, but it hadn't been this. In the past, other students had been approached – never her. She'd always chalked it up to her general apathy and disinterest.

"Umm, I guess this was a bad idea. Sss-sorry to bother you." Jennica bit her lip and turned away, the other two girls following her lead.

"No, wait, it's all right." Lily put a hand out to stop her. "Jennica, I'll do it." What? What was she saying? Oh, her traitorous mouth. She didn't have time for this! It was too late – Jennica was beaming now, and Lily had done that! She was starting to understand why Potter had this thing for respectability – it seemed to give her this warm and fuzzy feeling inside. Respect got to you – you started to want to earn it. So even if Lily resisted it as much as possible, she knew, somewhere in the back of her head, that she would change. Already she was being better at meetings with Dumbledore and McGonagall, trying to actually pay attention and take notes.

"Really?" The other girls were tittering behind their hands now. Jennica looked back at them and kept smiling. "Oh, thank you so much, Lily! You're the best!"

"No problem, really." Lily smiled at the younger girls. "Erm, see you later, then." They turned and skipped away from the table and out of the Great Hall entirely, leaving her feeling rather bemused – what had she done?

"Wow, Lily. You're such a saint," Potter drawled, his dark eyes glittering. Lily looked at him momentarily, then leaned across Isabella (who was chatting with Lupin), flicked him on the forehead before she could stop herself, and got up and left the table.

Lily was good at getting the last word, even if it wasn't always verbal.

ooo

_September 14, 1977_

Respectability.

That was what she and James had discussed. On that train, just two weeks ago.

And then they'd never talked about it again.

And life had proceeded in the same way. Lily had her friends, and James had his. Sometimes, the two groups intersected (there weren't exactly dozens of seventh years or anything), but for the most part, nothing had really changed. Sure, Lily and James had gone to a meeting in the first few days of school (Dumbledore had been pleasantly surprised by the work that they'd done over the summer), and they had one in a few hours, but that wasn't a big deal.

Actually, none of this Head Girl business seemed to be a big deal – there were House Council meetings with McGonagall once a month, and when Dumbledore called they _did_ have to come running (much to Sirius Black's amusement, she would imagine). Aside from that, Lily didn't have much to do with her time, save, of course, for the massive amounts of NEWT-level homework that professors were piling onto their students.

Lily dipped her quill into a bottle of blue ink and stared at her essay. What else could she write? Maybe nothing. She put the quill down and reached for a ruler, hoping that she'd completed the assignment. Bugger. She was missing a couple centimeters, and Flitwick was sure to notice. Maybe she could add to her conclusion?

"Inverted Shield Charms are –" she said aloud, trying to figure out what else she could say. At any rate, she _sounded_ productive that way.

"Did you know that they were discovered by accident?" Lily glanced up suspiciously, finding that the person responsible for interrupting her homework was, of course, James Potter. "It's true." He sat down next to her without so much as an invitation or even a request, throwing one long leg over the chair's arm and looking immensely comfortable. "Leopold Burbidge was trying to create the Double-Shield Charm, but –"

"Didn't he do that too?" she found herself asking, surprised at her own interest.

"Well, yeah, a couple years later, but you know how the Double-Shield requires a double jab?" She nodded. "He was about to jab a second time, but he was fond of being dramatic, and when he lunged forward with it, he tripped over his cat, went flying, and that's where we got the earliest form of the requisite twirl at the end of the spell." He nodded at her essay. "I didn't write about that in my essay – you should go ahead and use it."

Lily sighed and said grudgingly, "Thanks." She dipped her quill once more and scrawled something quickly, then re-measured her essay. It might even be a hair too long – Flitwick would be happy and maybe even shocked. Lily's table was in the corner, but the silence was pervasive, almost peaceful – dinner was still going on, so there were few people in the common room. Then she stole a look at James, but he was staring at her intently, so that didn't work. She fixed her gaze onto her words, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment at being caught. "What do you want?"

He tossed a sheaf of papers onto the table, obscuring her essay and ignoring her yelp of displeasure. "Stuff for Dumbledore's meeting."

Lily yanked her essay out from under his papers and, attempting to mask her embarrassment with anger, glared at James as she rolled it up into a scroll and tied it with a spare ribbon.

"Oh, c'mon, Lily, I'm sorry. Will you take a look at what I brought"

Silence. Finally – "Liar."

"Li-lee! I thought we were friends now! Isn't that what we agreeeeeeed upon?" James leaned forward.

She paused a moment before saying, "Stop batting your eyelashes, you look ridiculous and friends shouldn't hit on friends. Does that work on any girl?"

"Everyone but you, darling." But he stopped the offending motion and settled back into his armchair. "And who says friends don't hit on friends?"

"It's a rule."

"Not for blokes."

"And how many friends do you have that are girls? Or are you hitting on Sirius all the time?" Lily spread James's papers out across the table – they seemed to be proposals (many of them eccentric and absurd, though some of them seemed reasonable) for events and things. Quite a few sheets were from the prefect surveys that Dumbledore had given out last week – evidently James had gotten a hold of them. Maybe he was more of a slave to Dumbledore than Lily was. Was that a good thing or a bad?

"Hey! Padfoot and I are close, but not _that_ close." He crossed his arms.

"Ah, so it must be Remus that you enjoy flirting with." She bent over one sheet with its girlishly cramped handwriting – she'd bet money that this complainer about the girls' lavatories was Theresa Norrington. "I understand; he's a very attractive bloke."

She wasn't sure, but she thought James might have just squawked. Indignantly.

"That's not a pretty sound. It's amazing you get girls…or blokes…at all." She moved on from Theresa's sheet to look at the next, but quickly flipped to the one afterwards – she'd caught a glimpse of Severus's cramped scrawl, and that was the last person she wanted to think about right now.

"Hey! I get plenty of girls! I'm not some sort of poof!" Pause. "Wait. You think Remus is attractive?"

"Sure." This prefect (definitely a bloke) was severely focused on how terrible the patrol schedules were.

"Yes to my acknowledgment that I am a sex god, or yes, Remus is hot?"

"Which one do you think?" She made a note of this one – the mystery prefect had a good point about Hogsmeade trips and how permissions worked.

"I'll take sex god." She didn't have to look at him to know that he was smirking.

"Sorry, did I say sex god?"

"Piffle. Minor inconvenience. I know what you meant to say."

"The day you're a sex god, Potter…" Lily flipped quickly through the next couple surveys – they were all pretty standard.

Silence. "What?"

"Nothing. No words can describe it."

"Hah! I _am_ a sex god!"

"I concede nothing. As a matter of fact, I know that plenty of girls find Remus very attractive."

"What about me?"

Lily sighed. Why were prefects such goody-goodies? "I don't talk about you."

"Lil-eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" His voice took on a whiny quality. "But friends talk about friends!"

"Hah." She moved on to the next set of papers – why was there so much paperwork at the beginning of the year? She had her own schoolwork and things (such as the Auror application buried at the bottom of her bag) to deal with – who had time for all this?

James was strangely silent, which Lily only noticed because it meant that she had time to focus on what he'd given her. She should have known that it was too good to be true. There was silence, and then there was - "Ooh – what's this?"

"What?" Lily glanced at what James had picked up and froze.

It was Thomas's letter.

It was in his hand, inches away from Lily. This was his third letter since she'd gotten to school – but while he wrote three or four pages, she could only bring herself to write a half a page about nothing at all. Neither of them had said much about his declaration of lo-- (she couldn't even bear to think the word, it was so awful and uncomfortable), choosing instead to write about the mundane.

"It's – it's nothing. Put it down." Lily reached for it but James pulled it out of reach, smiling. "James! Hand it over!"

"Looks like it's from – ooh – Thomas, wasn't it?" He frowned. "Boyfriend, right?"

"Technically. Give. Me. That!" She hissed, punctuating every word with a lunge. Why was he so tall?

"Not so fast." He jumped out of the chair. "Hmm, you haven't opened it yet, I see." He looked at her thoughtfully. "How long have you had it?"

Lily glowered up at him as she got up and closed the distance between them, pushing him back until he was trapped in the corner. "A couple days," she mumbled. Fiona had given the letter to her when she got back from her Career thing with McGonagall. "Potter, it's _private._ Give it!"

"You've had a letter from your boyfriend –"

"A mere technicality!"

He continued serenely, ignoring her leaps and grabs for the coveted object. "- and you _haven't_ read it?"

Lily decided to change tactics. She quit hopping and stood very still, trying to withhold her temper. "Will you _please_ give me the damn letter?"

"Well, no, because you just cursed at me." He slid the letter inside his pocket, out of reach unless she wanted to grope him, which she wasn't exactly inclined to do. Bugger.

Time to experiment – maybe what worked on Thomas worked on all boys? She stepped closer to him and looked up, eyes very, very wide, eyelashes fluttering. She went up on tiptoe and, in a murmur, she said, "James, I just wanted to say that-" she leaned closer, closer, watching him gulp, his eyes intent on her face. And then…there! In a quick second, the letter was in her hand and she'd grabbed all her things off the table, darting away from the poor boy and giggling madly. From across the room, she called out, "Seems you're not immune to your own tactics, Potter." And then she was gone, taking the stairs to her dormitory two at a time.

If she'd lingered, she might have heard James Potter slowly whisper to himself, "Immune to everyone but you, darling."

Lily didn't always get the last word.

ooo

A/N: Oh, do tell me if you liked it in a review! They make me so happy!


	7. St Bernards and Sleep Deprivation

_September 19, 1977_

The seventh-years of last year were dirty, rotten liars. That was the opinion that Fiona had apparently come up with by the time Lily and her friends found themselves knee-deep in homework, assigned by every possible professor. Every professor of a NEWT-level class, that was.

"And why did we sign up for so many NEWTs?" Fiona grumbled, quill poised over parchment, surrounded by the complicated charts and tables necessary for her Herbology worksheet. "Oh wait, it was because everybody said that there was _no_ work involved!"

They were in the wee hours of a Sunday, and all the Gryffindor seventh years (except for Tracy – who was apparently only taking one NEWT, which freed up time for the same Hufflepuff bloke from last year) were sprawled around large tables in the common room, frantically attempting to finish their homework before midnight (though it looked like nobody was going to achieve _that_ goal). Everyone else in Gryffindor had gone to bed hours earlier, so they had the entire room to themselves, which was a nice (and rare) occurrence. Fiona, Lily, and Isabella were working at one table, with Remus, Sirius (if bothering Remus could count as studying), and James at the next, while Emmeline and Peter were on the couch, doing their "slacker class" Astronomy problems.

"Manageable, Fiona, they said that the work was manageable." Lily sat back in her chair and bit her lip, ignoring Fiona's ranting. Oh to hell with it, these Arithmancy problems didn't have completely correct answers, but it was close enough. She folded up the parchment and set it aside. What else did she have? Her potion for Slughorn was currently bottled up and left to stew overnight – it was purple now, so if it was green tomorrow, than she would get full marks. And…bollocks. She had a Transfiguration practical.

Lily had never been fond of Transfiguration. She knew, rationally, that Transfiguration was merely a matter of rearranging the atoms of one thing into another, but she just couldn't quite wrap her head around the idea. As a child, she had run around the science department at the uni (she used to meander after school or play hide-and-seek with Petunia while their father was doing research) and snuck into lectures and labs, and it seemed to be burned indelibly into her mind that inanimate objects couldn't and shouldn't be able to become live animals – how could a rock become a rabbit? Or worse – why did she need to turn frogs into pigs? Maybe the frog didn't want to be a pig! And what would a pig do with a frog's mind? Where was the logic in that?

It was too much like playing God for her. No wonder Potter liked it.

Nevertheless, Lily had let Isabella sign her up for NEWT-level Transfiguration because Fiona and Emmeline had flat out refused to take the difficult course and be forced to deal with McGonagall as a teacher as well as the Head of their House. A handful of weeks into school, Lily was deeply regretting that passivity.

And now she was stuck with this practical. With a faint sigh of resignation, Lily picked up her wand and textbook, asking Isabella, "Do you have whatever it is we're transfiguring for the practical tomorrow?"

"Yeah – I think the assignment is to transfigure a hamster into a St. Bernard." They were working with the idea of transfiguring something small into something much larger, and now they'd progressed to living things. Isabella pulled a small white carton out of her bag and handed it – presumably the hamster, judging from the rustling – to Lily. "How are you done with everything else already? I still have loads of schoolwork."

"Me too," Fiona chimed in.

"I dunno – I guess I'm just faster than you," Lily teased. It was true – Lily was generally done earlier with work (but there were ridiculous amounts these days – it didn't matter how fast one worked – there was just so much of it!) She lifted up the carton and peeked through one of the holes – yes, it was a hamster. "Thanks, I'll have it back to you in a bit."

"Him," Isabella said out of the corner of her mouth.

"What?"

"Not an 'it.' His name is Wallace."

"Wallace? What kind of hamster name is Wallace?" That was Fiona, looking up and scoffing.

"What? I think it's cute."

"Fine. I'll have _Wallace_ back in a little bit." Lily giggled a little. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go over to that corner so that I don't hurt anyone."

"If you hurt Wallace, I'll hex you."

"I know more hexes than you do."

"Show-off."

Lily didn't deign to respond to that, choosing instead to walk away, Wallace the hamster in hand. When she got to a corner (closest to the fire, but farthest from the other girls), she set up a magical "fence" to keep the hamster in one place, then opened the carton and let the hamster – sorry, Wallace – out. Okay. It was time to start practicing.

Swish…jab. And then the incantation, while doing a 45 degree sweep of the arm. It was all so simple.

In theory anyway.

She set to work, swishing and jabbing, sweeping the arm while muttering under her breath, etcetera…

Fifteen minutes later, she was still unsuccessful with this hamster to dog business. Or nonsense, depending on your frame of mind. She was in the midst of her twenty-seventh try when she heard a voice say, "You know, that spell doesn't work if you say 'damn' in the middle of the incantation." Of course it was James, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He looked as unkempt as she felt, with his tie hanging out of one pocket and the sleeves of his rumpled white button-up all rolled up, a trace of stubble on his chin. The school uniform trousers had been replaced with pyjama pants – evidently, James liked to sleep in dark blue flannel with a gold-embroidered Stitch on the hem. Lily supposed that she didn't look much better – she knew that her hair was a mess, a thick tangle of red waves, while her school uniform was just marginally stained by the chicken soup that Isabella had seen fit to toss at her in a fit of joyful pique over dinner. Dinner. That had been _hours _ago.

"Maybe not, but it's much more satisfying to me." Giving up on the actual assignment, she pointed her wand at the hamster (who was currently napping, completely unaware of the fact that she was trying to do things to it). With a nifty bit of wandless magic, she was successful in turning the annoying creature bright green, with blue spots here and there – she was always better with Charms work.

"Nicely done." He whistled, long and low. "Did you just use the Thornton variant of that?"

"Um, yeah, why?" Lily idly waved her wand and they watched as the hamster sprouted a ridge of electric blue spikes.

He pushed himself off the wall and came over to inspect the hamster on the floor, getting down on his knees in order to get a better look. "I've never mastered that – I always cheat and use the plain Yellow spikes." The more a color deviated from the basic primaries, the more difficult the spell. The basic spell was simple enough, but in 1759, Orlando Thornton created a variation that created poisonous and brightly colored spikes.

"Oh, but it's simple! It's just a matter of getting the turn in the wrist correctly. Like this, see? And at any rate, I can't do this stupid Transfiguration."

"And you think that the Thornton is _simple_?" He shook his head and stood, looking critically at her hands. "Show me what you've been doing."

"Don't you have your own work to do?" She glanced over her shoulder – Emmy was curled up, fast asleep (Lily hoped that she'd finished her work), but everybody else was still quietly and frantically scribbling away.

"No, I'm all done."

She couldn't help but be surprised. "When was the last time _that _happened?"

James shrugged self-consciously, sweeping a hand through his hair. "The Auror Department doesn't take anyone if their marks slip."

"You're really serious about this Auror thing, aren't you?" Lily continued to Charm poor Wallace the hamster, who didn't really resemble a hamster anymore. It was probably a good thing that Isabella had yet to look over and see what Lily was doing. "But you weren't last year, if I remember correctly."

"Well, I thought about it –"

"And you realized that Quidditch just wasn't meant to be?"

"And – hey!" James mock-glared at her. "My parents adore me, but they definitely wouldn't be happy if their only child played sports. And my Dad used to be an Auror."

"Really?" Lily swept her wand over the hamster and all of her charms work melted away as if they'd never existed.

"Yeah. So I'd be doing two things really – making Dad proud _and_ fighting for something important."

"So it all comes down to the war." Lily flicked a glance at Isabella, whose parents were on the front lines as Magical Law Enforcement.

"Yeah. Why do _you_ want to be one, then?" He took her wand hand and curled her fingers around the wand in a certain way. "Okay, try casting the spell again."

She did so, and watched with trepidation as a bright red light shot out of her wand and Wallace suddenly sported large ears and a tail that might, very possibly, belong to a St. Bernard? One could only hope. "That's more than what happened before, anyway. So it's in the grip?"

"And in the sweep – it needs to be bigger, see?" He demonstrated the spell, exaggerating the sweep. "Your turn." He gently laid a hand on her wand arm to guide her and she went through the motions of the spell again, grinning with a mixture of delight and horror as the two of them watched as the hamster grew into a large St. Bernard that continued to snore, though the sound was much louder now. Technically, it was imperfect, since neither of them had ever seen a St. Bernard with a slightly greenish tinge to the coat, but Lily couldn't fail if the dog was, in theory, a dog.

After a moment's contemplation, Lily murmured, "I guess, me wanting to be an Auror has to do with the war, too."

"Huh?" James was looking at the dog, but now he turned his full attention to Lily, eyes thoughtful. "Oh. Right. Maybe we'll be –"

But she was never going to hear whatever he was going to say, because right at that second, Sirius Black bounded over, his overt exuberance even more noticeable in the quiet of the witching hour. "Ooh! Is this a new friend for me to play with? Please, Prongs, can't I play with him? He looks like lots of fun!"

James started to say, "I don't think that-"

"No! DON'T TOUCH WALLACE!!" Isabella rushed over and flung herself in front of the pen, her long black hair forming a thick curtain. "Black, you are not laying a hand on my Wallace!"

Sirius skidded to a stop "Who the hell is Wallace?"

"The hamster," Lily explained.

"You named your hamster?" James looked askance at Lily. "Don't you know that you'll have to give it up after the practical tomorrow?"

"Don't look at me; I'd never name a hamster! Though technically it's a dog right now." She gestured towards Isabella. "Talk to the loony girl over here."

"What's all the commotion?" Lily groaned a little – this corner was getting so crowded! Fiona and Remus had joined them, peering over Black's shoulder to see what was going on. Peter was stretched out on the floor in front of Emmy – Lily silently hoped that he wouldn't be the first thing Emmy saw in the morning. She might scream.

"Oy! I'm not loony!"

"You're on the floor protecting a green dog, Izzy. I don't think you have a say in how loony you are." Lily leaned into James and whispered, "How do I reverse the Transfiguration? I'm afraid Sirius might develop an attachment if we leave the hamster as a dog for too long."

James grinned. "Oh, that's even easier." He did some sort of complicated jab-twist-spin thing that did _not_ look easy to Lily, but, nonetheless, when she looked back at Wallace, he was now a normal looking little hamster who was promptly scooped up by Isabella.

"Thanks, James." Lily smiled at him and he returned it, though there was something lopsided, or half-hearted, about the grin. Was that how he always smiled? Had she just never noticed?

"Isabella, stop cooing, you look ridiculous." Fiona, hands on hips, was standing over her friend and wrinkling her nose. "Get up – we're supposed to be mature, you know."

"But it's Wallace! Poor thing, Lily was experimenting on you!" Isabella nuzzled the hamster and said out of the corner of her mouth, "Bugger off, Fee – if I want to adore Wallace I have the right to."

"You should probably know," Remus said quietly, "that Wallace is actually a girl." Behind his wire-rimmed reading glasses his blue eyes looked faded and haggard. Lily wondered if he'd been sleeping properly.

"What?" Isabella craned her neck up at him. "How can you tell?"

"Erm…he's got a highly sensitive sense of smell. Very prodigious, our Remus is." Sirius nodded judiciously, long black waves of hair flapping this way and that, shining darkly in the firelight. "He's won competitions with that nose." He slung an arm around Remus's shoulder and the poor boy blushed faintly.

"Shaddup, Padfoot." Lily watched as James roughly elbowed Sirius and shot a pointed look at her. "You've said enough, I think." And then the three boys were squabbling, with their furtive looks and slight shoves, muttering under their breaths. Lily left them to it.

"Well, then, I'll call her Wallis," Isabella was saying to Fiona. Lily didn't know how Isabella managed it, but she was very good at pulling off the "sultry bedtime look," as Fiona usually called it, even when she was sprawled on the floor with a hamster in her hands. Her Spanish ancestors had gifted her with long dark locks and large, dark eyes, fringed with unbelievably long eyelashes. Lily wished she had Isabella's pert nose and high cheekbones – the girl looked great, even in her canary yellow flannels.

Fiona collapsed, Indian style, beside her friend and pointed out, "Wallace is a boy's name."

"Not Wall-ace. Wall-_is._ It's a girl's name."

"In what part of the world?"

"It's the female variant of Wallace, and since that's a Celtic name, I suppose that it must be one as well."

"How do you even know that?" Fiona shook her head in disbelief.

"Alejandro loves etymology. He bursts out with them all the time." Alejandro was Isabella's little brother, a Gryffindor fourth year.

"Your whole family is a bunch of nutters," Fiona said, but she was smiling all the while.

"Oy! I resent that!" Isabella halfheartedly scowled at Fiona. Lily watched her friends tussle slightly, the hamster left behind in their need to hurl silly insults and banter with laughter.

"Your friends get along as well as mine do," James whispered in her ear, and she shivered from the heat of his breath (why was the common room so cold, anyway?). Evidently _he'd_ stopped arguing, because now Sirius and Remus were on their own, whacking each other with foam swords that they'd apparently conjured up.

"What?" Lily shook her head. "We get along much better, I assure you. This is just Fiona and Isabella procrastinating – the longer they argue, the later they'll return to their studies."

"Why do you think we fight all the time?" Lily twisted to look at James. "Sorry, I meant procrastinate."

"Oh, so it's all secretly an act so that you might avoid work." They pulled away from their friends' absurd actions. "I see how it is."

"Alas! You've found us out!" He clutched his heart, his eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile. "Whatever will become of us now?"

"Ah, don't worry." Lily patted his arm. "I solemnly swear not to tell anyone."

"Oh, very well. You're in the Secret now." He tapped his chin thoughtfully with his wand. "You realize what this means, don't you?"

"No…" She was getting a sinking sort of feeling in her stomach.

"Why, now we must include you in our acts of tomfoolery. You're one of us now." He grinned rakishly.

She knew that she looked (and felt) incredulous and rather shocked. "What?"

"You heard me." He gently elbowed her, his eyes sparkling.

"But I don't 'procrastinate' like these two!" After a thought, she added, "and Emmy, when she's awake." Lily always got her stuff done as quickly as possible, so that she could sleep as much as possible, whereas Emmy just disregarded the work and slept.

"Oh please. What about what happened at dinner?" He pointed at Isabella.

"Okay, maybe Fiona and I shouldn't have salted her pumpkin juice," Lily admitted. "And maybe, if I hadn't done that, she wouldn't have retaliated with the soup."

"And then you wouldn't have knocked that platter of chicken onto her, right?" He grinned.

"Right. And then she wouldn't be in her 'jammies right now." Lily bobbed her head. "I'm so glad you understand how I think."

James shrugged.

Lily glanced at her watch and yelped. "It's two in the morning?! I have eight o'clock class tomorrow!"

"Well, today, technically."

"Wha-? Oh. Yeah. Well, I'd better go. Fee? Izzy?" Lily pointed her wand at Emmeline and charmed her weightless, then directed her body to float up the stairs to the dorm. Fiona and Isabella were too busy rolling around on the floor to notice her pleas, so she sighed and said, "Good night," and went to follow Emmy upstairs (and make sure her floating body didn't crash into anything – once, Fiona had done this to Lily and she'd woken up the next morning with three or four bruises), leaving behind the madness that was the Gryffindor seventh years. Her foot was on the first step of the staircase when she realized something, and turned back.

James was only standing a few feet away, watching her leave. "Hey, James?" He started slightly, like out of a trance. She barreled on. "What were you going to say, back there?"

"When?" He tucked his wand into the pocket of his pants.

"When we were talking about being Aurors. Before Sirius interrupted?"

He brightened a little, and laughed, though it sounded a little nervous and forced. "Oh yeah. I was just going to say, maybe we'll be in training together next year."

"Erm…that'd be nice," she managed to say. They lingered in this moment, saying nothing. His eyes were a warm hazel behind smudged lenses, his long lashes thick and dark. She wondered if this was how he always appeared in the middle of the night, caught off guard and scruffy, and – dare she say it? – to the right girl, he would be endearing. And then she caught herself staring (this seemed to happen to her a lot lately – what was wrong with her? Was it some kind of syndrome, perhaps?), blushed, and headed back up the stairs.

Behind her, she heard a faint "'Night, Lily," and she knew exactly who was speaking.

* * *

_September 20, 1977_

Lily should have gotten some sleep last night.

She should have gotten some sleep, because then, maybe she wouldn't be overcompensating in class.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, no less. She yawned, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and squinting at the board. What was the assignment again? She glanced over to the left and noticed that Isabella and Emmeline were disgustingly wide-awake and peppy (Fiona was usually here too, but today she was out, due to the fact that she'd been injured yesterday by a rogue Bludger from Black), dutifully copying down what was on the board even as they furtively passed notes to one another in little wads of paper. Emmeline had passed out (Lily wondered if she'd had something to drink last night; she could've sworn she smelled rum on the girl's breath, and Emmy was something of a lightweight) early, so that was understandable, but Isabella hadn't even come upstairs by the time Lily was falling asleep. It wasn't fair that the Spanish girl was so capable of functioning without sleep.

And how was Lily supposed to take notes if she couldn't pay attention? It was a terrible mystery; she steeled herself for a boring (and probably useless) class. It wasn't that the subject was boring; on the contrary, Lily found evasive spells far more practical and sensible than the flashy invasive ones. But the fact of the matter was, when Lily was sleep-deprived, it was impossible for her to focus. She'd heard rumors that certain seventh years (ie. Peter Pettigrew, most likely – he had an odd knack for Herbology) were peddling Wakeful, but she'd never been a fan of mind altering drugs (one night of detention with Black and Potter when they were high, back in fifth year, was more than enough for her). Alcohol was well and good (as long as you were with friends who hopefully wouldn't let you do anything too stupid), but drugs? She'd heard that they _actually_ killed brain cells.

Professor Bartleby sneezed wildly; the people in the front two rows (suck-ups, the entire lot) were sprayed by his spittle and mucus. Of al the Hogwarts professors, Timothy Bartleby was undoubtedly the strangest. In his late sixties, he was the sort of person for whom the adjective "decrepit" came to mind. He was a small and skinny stick of a man, with wispy white hair and mottled skin. They say a sneeze occurs at 150 km/hour. In this class, that speed was keenly felt, both by the professor (who was often blown into the chalkboard by the strength of his own nasal congestion) and the students (who had gotten quite good at Vanishing mucus). "Who can tell me about Aldrige's method of Concealment? This was covered in Monday's reading from Chapter Six."

Who the hell was Aldridge? Had she done the reading? Lily couldn't remember. She rubbed at her eyes and looked back at the board. Nope; everything was still a bit of a blur. She carefully and discretely tried to look at the clock above Bartleby's head.

"Do you need to go somewhere, Miss Evans? You appear to be distracted." Whatever else people might say about Bartleby and his teaching style, he was unfailingly good at spotting students who weren't paying attention.

Lily gulped and tried to look innocent. "Erm, Professor, I was just wondering how, erm," – think quickly, think quickly, lie, lie, lie! – "if the time of day is a factor in the effectiveness of a Concealment spell, since I thought I saw that Aldridge was good at Arithmancy and that subject has a lot to do with time."

"That is a very good question, Miss Evans. Five points to Gryffindor." Bartleby nodded approvingly, then resumed droning and writing on the chalkboard.

From behind her she heard, "Nice one, Evans," from Potter. She shrugged and resumed staring at the board, chin in hand. This was going to be a looooooong class.

Five minutes later, Lily was restless and anxious to get out and take a nap. She glanced over to the left again. Isabella was giggling; her current bloke, Edgar Bones, was leaning over to whisper something in his ear. Lily wondered what he was saying, for it was difficult for boys to make her laugh. Emmeline was preoccupied with a letter she needed to send to her Prewett boy, the same one from the summer, the one even Fiona grudgingly deemed "something a little better than ordinary," which was good enough for any boy, really (Isabella, Emmy, and Lily had long ago given up on Fiona's high standards). Was it irony, then, that Fiona, the one girl who was truly chasing after love, was the only one without a steady bloke? Isabella had Bones, Emmy was busy with Prewett, and Lily had…Thomas. Bennington. Thomas Bennington.

After much urging from Fiona, Lily had opened Thomas's latest letter. It had been a week now since she'd gotten it, or more, and she didn't know what to write back. He said that he loved her (again); he said that he didn't want to push her. But he did want to know if his feelings would b returned soon.

She was lost.

Lily slowly slid the letter out from where it was hiding beneath her "notes" or whatever spell it was that they were working on. Concealment, wasn't it? Maybe. It didn't matter – there were five pages of his large, meticulous writing, his carefully polite words. She needed to respond with _something._ Plus, Fiona and Isabella had a bet going. Two Sickles to the girl who'd backed the one (either Lily or Emmy, since they were the two girls with long distance blokes) who finished her letter the fastest – minimum one page. And Emmy was nearly done. Lily wasn't sure, but she thought that Fiona was backing her, while Isabella was backing Emmy.

"What are you even doing with this boy, Lily?" Fiona had said at breakfast, her words partially obscured by the mountain of eggs she'd just shoveled into her mouth. "You don't like him."

"What? He's…he's nice." Lily had sipped her tea and avoided looking at her friends, which meant (of course) that her gaze landed squarely on Potter, sitting across from her and a couple seats to the left. But he merely raised one eyebrow and carried on talking with Remus. She thought she heard a snatch about the "moon cycles" or something.

"Lily.."

"Bugger off."

But the blonde had been persistent. "You said he was a summer boy. It's the middle of September! Drop him already, won't you?!"

"But I can't do it by letter! That's so cruel!"

"It's not fair to lead a boy on, Evans." Potter had leaned across Emmeline to say this, and now he recoiled, easily flowing back into conversation with his friends, and the rest of breakfast passed without a hitch.

In DADA, now, it was Potter's low words that echoed in Lily's brain. And in the echo of his words she heard the echo of that first day of school, on the train, when this had first manifested itself as her new dilemma.

So she hovered over a new, blank sheet of parchment, quill poised, staring at the vast, empty space. Maybe Potter was right; maybe she _should _end it.

Why was she hanging onto Thomas anyway? Was it out of habit? Pride? Fear of being alone? (Poppycock.) If she was going to be perfectly honest, well, she wasn't exactly in love with him. In fact, she didn't even really like him. (Lily began to draw lines on the paper and make herself a list.) Sure, Thomas was tall and strong and a perfect gentleman, with good hair, and dreamy eyes. And he was a decent kisser (but sometimes, tongue was just uncalled for). He was even well-off (good for her parents) and a half-blood (he understood her Muggle roots). She even got along with his friends (even if she wasn't exactly into following national Gobstones tournaments). What else could she want in a bloke?

Well, he was rubbish at Quidditch. That was bad, she supposed. And…and…she looked down at her list, running through all of those qualities, good and bad, once more. Was there anything else? As she was sitting here, ruminating and reflecting (and getting lost in her own convoluted trains of thought), a lightning bolt of clarity suddenly attacked her muddled clouds of fatigue, the electricity crackling through her mind and burning away her confused wisps of fog.

This was it. These were all the things she had to say about Thomas because this was all there was to him (if that made any sense; she realized she'd have to come back later and sort out what she meant by that, but at the moment, it appeared to be sound reasoning.). There was nothing special about Thomas! He was boring, "ordinary," as Fiona called it. He was unfailingly predictable (except for, you know, the declaration of love and the needing to be official. She hadn't predicted that.).

But that's exactly what she wasn't. Maybe this was one of those "opposites attract" things that just simply didn't work. Lily _liked_ not knowing what was happening from minute to minute, liked not knowing where she was supposed to be from moment to moment. She enjoyed surprises; life was more enjoyable that way.

With this newfound lucidity, Lily couldn't help but smile to herself. She felt as buoyant as a balloon, like there'd never been weight on her shoulders. And in her strange state, she felt herself becoming unusually decisive, dipping the quill in her bottle of blue ink and forming words on parchment quickly but deliberately. For the first time in awhile, Lily was going to be brutally honest.

_Thomas,_

No, that wasn't the right greeting. It was too cold, wasn't it? She tried again.

_My dear Thomas – _

No, not it either. Third time's the charm?

_Dear Thomas – _

(okay, so it was a classic, but when had that ever stopped anybody from using it?)

_Dear Thomas – _

_I'm sorry that it's taken me some time to respond to your letter. Truth is, I just needed some time to think. I've been very confused about __a multitude many _ _a number of things recently, one of which being how I felt about you. And I've made a decision. It would be unfair (and cruel) of me to let this (us) progress any longer, when I don't think that I'll ever feel as strongly for you as you do for me. I'm sorry; I wish I did_ (so much for brutal honesty) _but I don't. I completely understand if you never want to speak to me again, but I hope (_ah, here's the kicker!) _that we can still be friends. _

_Sincerely,_

_Lily Evans_

Short, but (for the most part) true. Wasn't that what was important? It would have to do – Lily had never been good at being unnecessarily verbose, and she didn't really want to cushion this letter. And she was sure that she'd never hear from him again – he seemed like that type, in the time they'd gotten to know one another.

This was it – if (and when) she sent this letter, she'd be single again. It had been what, a little over two months, perhaps? She'd never been good at keeping track of "couple-y" things, although this was probably her longest relationship. But she'd never been good at commitment.

"Hey, Lily!" She was folding up her letter and addressing it, but she paused to peer up at Isabella, who was towering over Lily's desk. "Bartleby's kicking us out – he's got to teach a bunch of ickle firsties."

"What? Oh. Right." She gathered her things, asking, "Did he assign any homework?"

"Yeah, I'll fill you in later. Going to lunch?" The two girls trailed the rest of the seventh years out the door, falling into step behind the Marauders.

"Nah, I've got to mail a letter and take a nap. Didn't you see me passing out?" She readjusted her bag.

"Erm, not really."

"That's right, you were flirting with Bones. How is that going, by the way?" Lily teased.

Isabella sniffed. "It's fine." They reached a fork in the corridor – the left side went to the Great Hall, the other, back to the dormitory. "What are you mailing, anyway?"

"Just a letter to Thomas."

"Oooh…" The Spanish girl blew kissing noises. "Finally wrote back to him, eh?"

"Yeah." In front of her, Lily thought that Potter and Pettigrew might be listening, but she couldn't be sure, and she couldn't find it in herself to care, anyway.

"And? Did you finally say those ickle three words?" Isabella laughed brightly.

"Actually" – Lily grinned cheekily – "I'm off to end things. Catch you in Charms!" With those parting words, she hurried down the right corridor, resisting the urge to skip. Was it okay for her to feel this happy about this sort of thing?

_

* * *

_

A/N: Liked it? Let me know in a review!


	8. Leaving

**Leaving**

_Thursday, September 30, 1977_

_  
Dear Lily,_

_ Thank you for your letter. I appreciate your honesty and I wish you only the best. I must confess, my feelings have not changed. I would like to remain friends. That would be nice._

_Thomas_

ooo

"Here, Lily, take this!"

"Why would I want a flag?" Lily grunted slightly as she sat down between Marlene McKinnon and Alejandro Marquez, Isabella's little brother. She shivered; why did they have play Quidditch on the coldest day of September? "Marlene, you're not even in Gryffindor!"

Marlene smiled cheerfully, her brown eyes large and dark and rather intense in such a small face. Lily often thought that Marlene had rather pixie-like features, what with her cropped blonde hair and pert little nose. A menacing pixie, though, the sort that pulled your hair and bit you. In other words, a real pixie, not one of the ones from Lily's childhood storybooks. "If Gryffindor wins, we get to beat 'em up next week. I'd rather fight them – I've got a bone to pick with Black." Marlene was the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain – last year, she'd gone head to head with Gryffindor, and, well, needless to say, the Cup was currently in Ravenclaw's possession.

"Be careful with that one," Lily said lightly, though what she really wanted to do was run and warn Black. Marlene frightened her. "He might cry." She thought a moment, then added, "He also has cronies." She scanned the skies, but she couldn't pick out either Isabella or Fiona. "When did they start?"

"About fifteen minutes ago. Where were you?" Marlene said, handing over the small, red-and-gold flag, which glittered when Lily waved it experimentally.

"Erm, finishing up an essay for Mc-what's-her-face," Lily replied absentmindedly, still craning her neck. She heard Michelle Lockwood's loud voice over the din of the crowd. "AAAANNNNDDD…POTTER'S IN POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE, AND HE'S – WAIT FOR IT – WILL BONES BLOCK THE SHOT?" The crowd roared its appreciation and Lily gave up on looking for Isabella, turning her head to look for Potter instead, catching him just as he flipped upside down, waved at the crowd, and flung the Quaffle neatly through the center hoop. "TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR! AND MARQUEZ IS IN POSSESSION, BUT – WAIT – OOOH!" and so on and so forth. It was all the same, people flying back and forth, throwing a ball around. Lily tuned out Lockwood's nasal boom and pulled out a book. She'd never really liked Quidditch games. It wasn't that she minded the game itself; it was just that she usually ended up going alone, since Fiona was the Seeker and Isabella a Chaser, and Emmeline hated going to these things but always loved the after parties.

In fact, where was Emmeline today? Lily wrinkled her brow. Down by the lake? In their dorm? But then she remembered, and so relaxed. That's right. She was with Fabian Prewett, walking in Hogsmeade, probably. Rumor had it that the Prewett brothers were at Hogwarts this weekend on business for Dumbledore, but rumor didn't know what for, exactly.

Marlene poked her in the shoulder, hard, yanking her from her thoughts. "Finishing up an essay? And now you're reading?" She sounded horrified by the very idea. "Lighten up, Evans."

"I have a ton of work this weekend," Lily replied, cracking the book open. She didn't usually watch Quidditch – as long as she was here, she figured that counted as moral support for Fee and Izzy, right? With a faint sigh, Lily ran her finger down the lines until she found where she'd left off. She used to be one of those girls who absolutely threw a fit when people did things to books (cracking their bindings, leaving them out, etc.), but now, out of sheer laziness, she dog-eared books all the time (not that she ever let Fiona know it – Fee was still mad at her about that time in sixth year when Lily had lectured her and taken away her book).

"But Evans, you've got the whoooooole weekend! It's Friday, for Merlin's sake!" Marlene wrenched the book away from Lily before the redhead could stop her. Next thing she knew, Marlene was sitting on the damn thing. Double damn. "Live a little!"

"But I've got this application for a job –"

"McGonagall got to you, did she?"

"Yeah – doesn't Hufflepuff have these Career things too?" In the last couple of weeks, Lily had gotten interested in what all her friends were doing with their lives. For some reason, nobody was being very vocal about it all.

Marlene nodded. "I sent in my applications for the Department of Mysteries last week."

"You can apply to the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yup. But I don't think I'll get the job. Hey, do you want some Butterbeer?" She pulled out a flask.

"How did you get Butterbeer?" Lily sipped it gratefully, glad of the warmth. On her other side, she knew that Alejandro was probably staring at them, wondering what the two seventh-years were doing with a flask. Marlene thought she was hip; the rest of the school just thought her strange. But that was Marlene for you – too cool for Hogwarts, and frightening to boot. Lily had often thought over the years that Marlene was left alone because students simply didn't know how to handle her bleak opinions and fierce passion for Quidditch as well as anti-discrimination acts for magical creatures. Nonetheless, Lily always went out of her way to talk to the other girl. It was refreshing to be around someone who was bluntly honest and completely without tact.

"Oh, I have my ways…" She grinned wickedly, taking the Butterbeer back and stowing it in her coat.

"You _are _a clever girl." Lily leaned back on her elbows, resigning herself to actually watching the game for the first time in a couple years. "Is it that passage by that one-eyed witch?" The wind whipped her hair into her face and she, irritated, brushed the red strands out of her eyes. When had her hair gotten so thick and wavy? There was just so much of it; she wondered if she looked even passably attractive today. Probably not. Several seconds of silence had passed. Lily turned her head slightly, only to find Marlene staring at her, mouth open. "What's wrong?"

Marlene narrowed her eyes. "How do you know about that passage?" Lily cast her a warning look and jerked her head towards Alejandro, on the other side of her (The last thing she wanted was for the little fourth years to find out and start running off to Hogsmeade. She definitely didn't want to be responsible for the fourth years' decision to skive off class and dash to Honeydukes). Marlene lowered her voice, but the volume and intensity of her voice seemed to have an inverse relationship. "Lily Evans, Miss Head Girl, what do you know about secret passageways?"

"I'm afraid my reputation is shot, McKinnon." Lily watched as James earned another 10 points for Gryffindor. He really was an incredible flyer, easily dashing circles around Bones. Poor Isabella, having to play against her bloke. She was a better Chaser than he was a Keeper too, according to Marlene. "How did you find it?"

"No, I asked first." Her voice took on a whining tone. "C'mon, Lily, or else I'll never give your book back!"

She relented. "It was fifth year. Alice Prewett and I were running from the Head Boy that year…what was his name?" She could see him in her mind, all crisp uniform and impeccably done hair. "Ah, yes. Podmore. Sturgis Podmore. And that Head Girl, whoever that was."

"Why were you running from Podmore?" Marlene made an unpleasant face. "I remember him."

"Erm…oh, yes. Her cousins –"

"Gideon and Fabian, right? Hey, aren't they somewhere on campus right now?"

"Yeah. Those two. Anyway, they asked us to distract the Heads so that they could implement a Plan. So we did. And then we literally ran into the statue and Alice was babbling, and all of a sudden it opened." Hufflepuff was in possession now, but Sirius Black had wonderful aim as a Beater – their Chasers were in for it.

"My story is much more boring," Marlene confessed.

The wind had quieted, and now the sun was out in full force. Lily smiled. "What happened?"

"I overheard Black and Pettigrew once last year. Back when they had that fallout?" Lily remembered that one – last November, Remus had spent hours in the library and with other people (such as Lily and Emmy), while Pettigrew had alternated between trailing Potter or Black. And then, after break, they were fine again, though the number and variety of their pranks had since diminished. Not even the Hogwarts rumor mill had much light to shed on the subject, though she remembered hearing that they were all poofs and Remus was in love with Potter and Black was angry, while Pettigrew was in love with both Potter and Black. She didn't think that particular sordid affair was true (though stranger things did happen at their school). "Had to see for myself. Hogsmeade is bad for my Gringotts account."

"You're right." Lily stretched. "I am far more interesting than you." Potter really was an incredible Quidditch player. He flew with both speed and grace, and threw with remarkable accuracy (or maybe Isabella and that George Darcy were just good at catching). There was something profoundly elegant about the way he moved when his feet were off the ground.

"You're also right about that."

Lily turned her head to face her. Not that it mattered – Marlene was generally glued to the game, memorizing tactics and learning strategy. "What? Marly, I was kidding. Of course you are a terribly interesting person. Just too interesting for Hogwarts, methinks."

Marlene shook her head and – briefly – looked into Lily's eyes. In a soft, serious tone (which was frightening – Marlene was never this serious and grave) she said, "You are more intriguing than I will ever be, Lily Evans." And then her attention shifted back to the game, and her eyes began to follow the movement of the Quaffle once more.

At that, it was Lily's turn to stare, mouth open. Why did the blonde sound so serious? She'd never been – she'd always thought that – well, basically, Marlene had always been _the_ most complex and fascinating girl ever. Here was a girl who always spoke her mind, whose opinions varied from topic to topic but never wavered in and of themselves, who knew about cotillions and Minister balls but could also whack you upside the head with a Bludger if necessary and never miss, and was also inclined to get good marks in everything she did, without even trying terribly hard. Who wouldn't be fascinated by a girl like that? "Marl, if that was a compliment out of your mouth, I swear, I'll- " But what she would've sworn, she'd never know, because at that precise moment, Marlene jumped up, screaming with the rest of the fans. Gryffindor must have done something spectacular. Lily stood up shortly thereafter, staring back up at the sky. Damnit. Had she missed something important? Were Isabella and Fiona involved? There would be hell to pay for that if Lily had missed it.

As she cheered with the rest of her House (and Marlene), she slid a sidelong glance at Marlene, who seemed to have snapped out of that weird mood and was now carrying along like nothing was different, nothing had changed.

But something had. Lily just wasn't sure what.

ooo

She should've placed a bet with Marlene, because Gryffindor soundly thumped Hufflepuff in just under three hours. From what she understood from Marly, Fiona had had a hard time finding the Snitch because Hufflepuff's Beaters had concentrated on her. The assumption seemed to be that if Hufflepuff could hold out long enough, before Fiona caught the Snitch and ended the game, then they could maybe beat Gryffindor. This was a mistaken idea.

Now, Lily was trailing after Marlene towards the general direction of the Gryffindor locker room. She usually waited to congratulate (or console, but that really was a rare occurrence) her friends when they were back in their room (and Fiona had procured some alcohol), but Marlene had convinced her to, just this once, go back there and see the whole team.

So here they were, in the back of a throng of fellow students, crowding around the Quidditch team, who had their backs to the door. Lily thought she glimpsed Fiona's bright hair at the front of the group, but she couldn't be sure. She'd never find her or Isabella among this lot. Beside her, Marlene was shouting louder than anyone else.

This was ridiculous and absurd. Why did Gryffindor have so many supporters? Or fans, really – teenagers were such a hormonal lot. Lily was sure that most of these pretty young girls were here to see Potter and Black, while the boys were definitely around to fawn over Fiona or Isabella (although surely Edgar Bones was lurking somewhere). She fit neither category and felt rather displaced, actually. She turned to leave.

She'd always thought that she was good at disappearing, mostly because of all the practice she'd gotten. Fiona would drag them all to a party or even, and then she'd meet a cute boy and start chatting him up, while Emmeline was off with a boyfriend and Isabella always found "family acquaintances" (aka, fellow old pureblood families) that had to be attended to, which often left Lily there by herself. This was hardly Fiona's fault; Lily just didn't like to make unnecessary small talk and her attention span was very short. So she was good at just vanishing when she wanted to leave.

But apparently someone else was unusually good at appearing, because she only got a couple of steps away from the crowd before practically running into someone. "Looking for me?" It was like he'd Apparated, that James Potter. Here he was, in all of his freshly showered glory, all damp hair and clean smelling in a set of school robes. He'd never be as broad-shouldered as Sirius, but he exuded a lean and tall confidence that more than made up for it.

Wait. Was she thinking of Potter as an attractive bloke?

She'd never thought like that. The rest of the girls in this school definitely thought he was cute, but she…

But he wasn't a bad looking bloke at all. He had a thin blade of a nose and large hazel eyes, with a strong jaw and large hands. She could see a bit of his collarbone peeking out of his robe and she wondered if –

She was staring at him. She, Lily Evans, was staring at him, James Potter.

And he'd noticed. Fuck. "Something the matter, Evans? Have I got dirt on my robe?" He checked, which gave her a chance to resume her composure and think about something else. _Pull yourself together, Lily._

"Not at all," she said coolly. "Congratulations, Potter."

"Thanks!" He gave her a cocky grin and hoisted his broom over his shoulder. "Did you come down here just to congratulate me?" It was strange that nobody had noticed him back here yet, seeing as that crowd was clamoring loudly to see Potter and company.

Before she knew it, her mouth was spitting out words. "Wanted to give George Darcy a kiss, actually. But I don't feel like waiting," she said, but she smiled so that he knew she was joking. She hoped.

"That Darcy!" He looked outraged. "Are you secretly a bit of a cougar, Evans?"

"He's only, what, two years younger than us?" Lily laughed brightly. "He played rather well."

She spun on her heel and kept walking back towards the castle, but he caught up to her. "Darcy? But I'm the one who kept passing to him and _I'm_ the one who scored all those points! Darcy's just –"

"Oh, do relax, Potter. I saw you up there. You did well," she conceded.

He kept pace with her brisk walk. "Back to the Tower, then?" She nodded, and he said, "I'll walk you back."

"You don't want to hang out with your adoring milieu down there?" She cocked her head and he shrugged offhandedly.

"Not really in the mood. Besides, I'm sure Padfoot is throwing a party tonight, so I'll see everyone then." They were at the doors now, and he chivalrously pulled the left one open for her before following her inside. With the closing of the door, the sounds of the crowd died away.

"I suppose." She sighed, and they lapsed into a companionable silence. She listened to their footfalls, the heels on her maryjanes clicking on the stone floor.

He must've been in a rare contemplative mood, because he didn't break the silence until five minutes later. "What are you doing in Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

She almost giggled, because it had been at least a couple of weeks since he'd asked her anything of the sort. But she managed to maintain a serious and calm face. "Are you asking me out?"

"Maybe." He ran a hand through his hair and it stood up in spikes in the front. "Are you saying yes?"

She was about to answer him when they turned the corner and saw Severus, alone on the other end of the corridor, hunched over and brooding inside that greatcoat that she knew his uncle had given him on his sixteenth birthday, over winter holidays. She knew, because he had come running down the street hours later in order to show her, despite the fact that they'd been having a rocky year. She missed that Severus, the kind and almost sweet boy (and definitely awkward) that he used to be.

Lily couldn't help it; she flinched. It had been months since she'd encountered Severus alone, and she didn't know how to react. Would he say hello? Would he glare? Would he just avoid her altogether? Potter hadn't seen the other boy yet; he seemed lost in thought and-

Too late to think. They were a foot away from Severus now, and she realized how this must look to him – she was with his worst enemy, and they'd been laughing and talking and now Severus was speaking. "Switched sides, Evans? Fucking Potter now, are you?" What? These accusations were absurd, weren't they? Just because she was with Potter right now (and yes, everyone else was still out on the field or by the lake because it had warmed up a bit) did _not _mean they were dating. Didn't Potter go walking around with girls sometimes?

_Only when he was dating them._

It didn't matter – Potter's wand was already out, his broom clattering to the ground at his feet. Merlin, they moved fast – she'd never been such a quick draw. "Move and you're dead, _Snivellus,_" Potter spat out between gritted teeth, his wand aimed unwaveringly at the other boy's nose. "I mean it."

"Oh?" Severus sneered, his wand aimed right between the eyes. Lily, from where she was standing next to Potter, felt a twinge of nervousness. She knew both boys well; Potter was the stronger, but Severus had always been sly and quick. "From here, I believe you're the one that better be careful."

War. This piecemeal concept that hovered at the peripherals of everyone's vision, just out of sight but definitely present. Besides this, however, nothing was really different. Walking in the hallways, Lily occasionally heard a snatch of conversation about the war, often about the handful of students had not returned this year. But in general, students were gossiping about Quidditch tryouts and couples and mundane, _normal_ things. Was this mysterious war one that would not be acknowledged at this school? She didn't know. But it was easier for her not to have to confront the realities of war when she could hide behind her friends, who seemed to just ignore the claims of the Death Eaters and this Lord Voldemort.

So she forgot about the war; she went to class and haphazardly studied for NEWTS and attempted to improve her leadership abilities and work with Potter and sometimes she even went to things like Quidditch games; she tried to be happily normal.

But sometimes…sometimes she remembered. Like today, in this moment, she remembered why Potter and Snape had never liked each other.

"Apologize," James warned, a mad glint in his eye that meant that he rather hoped that Snape didn't.

Lily tried to find her voice but couldn't. There must have been a thousand tiny spats like this in the past, but this particular one reverberated with her somehow. Maybe it was because, in the grand scheme of this war, Potter and Snape had clearly chosen opposing sides. Or maybe it was because she was caught in the middle of their private feud. Or maybe, maybe what really struck her was that, in the past, the last time she'd ended up in the middle of such a spat, it had been fifth year. The last time, she had come to the aid of Severus against Potter, only to be rebuffed by a cruel word that meant much more to Snape than it ever had to her.

"Go on, Potter. Hex me and I'll tell everyone about –"

"Oh, do shut up." James scoffed, and Lily found herself staring at his face, unable to recognize him in that cruel and contemptuous look. Where was the cocky but genial boy she'd seen just minutes before? "You can't, and you know it. Sirius told me what Dumbledore did."

She didn't know what they were talking about, but it sounded serious. Snape grew paler and tightened his fingers around his wand, glaring small pointy objects at James. That was a bad sign, she knew. Oh, she knew every bit of the young Severus, which sometimes shined through this new, cold exterior. He knew so much Dark magic now, how much of it would he throw at James? She had to get him away before Severus tried anything. She needed to do her blasted Head Girl job. Doggedly, she put a hand on James' arm and said quietly, "C'mon, James. Let's just walk away from this. We should just –"

"_No._" There was a sort of ringing finality in his voice. "I have been kind, Snivellus. I haven't hexed you since last November, despite it all, and –"

Severus uttered a short bark of a laugh. "You? Been kind? Yeah, right. You've been such a saint." His eyes flickered to Lily's hand on Potter's arm and she jerked away from James, eyes downcast. How often had he mocked Potter when they were young? How often had she even agreed, or done nothing about it? And yet here they were, the three of them, at the cusp of adulthood. And this was what it had come to. "And you, Lily. Isn't this just p_erfect_. Head Boy and Head Girl, off to rule the world together. How political of you. And how magnanimous you are, Potter, a pureblood with a –"

"Apologize to Lily." There was a steely undercurrent to James' voice that frightened her. "Or I'll make you."

"You can't touch me." Severus said, and then in a move that she knew perfectly, he was waving his wand and forming a word in his mouth.

But suddenly her wand was in her hand and she was whispering the first thing that came to mind: "_Langlock._" His eyes widened – she knew perfectly well that this was one of his own curses. One of their own, really. For three months they'd worked on this one, taking turns, since ungluing your tongue from the roof of your mouth was rather painful. Pomfrey had seen a lot of them, back then. For good measure (he'd never been terribly good at nonverbal spells, but you never knew), she cast a Full Body Bind and watched as he fell over. She hoped it hurt. In all their years together, she'd never laid a hand on him, and now she felt a little sick. This was what it came to – this war, turning people against people, bringing her against her oldest friend.

It wasn't always good versus evil. There were strange shades of gray involved, too, and she didn't know what color Severus was, or what she was, or what they were becoming. Did everyone start out on one side or the other? Or did they all start in that fuzzy gray area and then stray to either white or black? She suddenly missed the years before Hogwarts with a deep ache, the years when it had just been her, Petunia, and Severus, hanging about the playground in jumpers and pigtails (well, not Severus, he would've looked a bit silly in pigtails). Sevvy and Lily had met when they were eight, and she'd never regretted that. They'd had a lot of fun when they were younger.

And then they had gotten to school, and suddenly Petunia wasn't speaking to her and Sevvy was in a different House and she was being told by red-and-gold students that she oughtn't to speak to people "of his sort." But she did, anyway, and she'd never thought of it as a statement about disregarding Blood for what Blood was.

It had just been about her and Severus. Until fifth year, anyway.

"That was brillia-" Potter had caught up to her again. She shot him a look, and he sighed. "I'm sorry, Lily. I just got carried away." She sniffed. Just because she was mad at Severu—Snape, now, didn't mean that she couldn't be mad at Potter, too.

Even if she was secretly glad that he'd stood up for her instead of making crude jokes.

"Lily…"

"What have I told you about batting your eyelashes?" _Don't look at him don't look at him don't look at –_

"You said it made me look incredibly sexy." It kind of did.

She stopped short, looked at him, and said, "Then you misquote worse than that Skeeter twit from _Witch Weekly._" She walked away.

"Oh, c'mon, Lil." He sighed. "It's just that…well, I can't really get into it, but last year there was some…look, I really can't say. But Snivellus –"

"Severus –" she corrected automatically, then halted when she realized what had come out of her mouth. She stared straight ahead, counting the number of portraits they'd passed.

"Sever—sorry, Snape, and I have a lot of history, and it's…it's complicated. I'm sorry."

She thought for a moment, mulling it over, watching him squirm. She didn't know what had happened between the two boys – Severus had never been really clear on why he hated Potter so. He'd generally just stuck to the "arrogant toerag" sort of namecalling. She'd never pried – it seemed to involve family, and if there was one thing Severus hated, it was his own relatives.

"Lily…."

They were in front of the portrait hole now. She paused, then said finally, without a smile, "I accept your apology. See you later." Then she said the password (Jelly beans) to the Fat Lady and climbed in, alone. As she crossed the common room to the girls' dormitory, she realized that she'd never answered his question. She didn't even know what her answer would have been.

Yes, Lily Evans was good at leaving.

ooo

_**Ministry of Magic  
Application for Auror Training**_  
_(Page 1 of 12)_

**Name:** Lily Evans  
**Age**: 17  
**Hometown**: Spinner's End  
**School:** Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
**Why you want to be an Auror (in 250 words)?** Good question. When I find that answer…  
**Who recommended you for Auror Training?** I was McGonigled…  
**What skills do you bring to the Auror field?** None. Well. Being on time. So I'll be punctual for missions. And things.

ooo

A/N: Well, thanks for the reviews - hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. Drop me a line?

Oh, and apparently McGonigled , according to Urban Dictionary, means totally screwed.


	9. The Lupin Conundrum

**The Lupin Conundrum**

_Monday, October 2, 1977_

It had been two days since Lily had spoken to James, or Severus, for that matter. She saw both of them in classes, but Severus had never approached her yet in the last couple years, while James took one look at her face yesterday and realized that it was probably not a good idea to try. Lily was grateful for that, since she hadn't decided how she felt about him. On one hand, he had been defending her, but on the other, they'd been _fighting_. And weren't the Head Boy and Girl supposed to be impartial when it came to the war? Blood or not, they weren't supposed to take sides until _after_ they graduated, and if McGonagall and Dumbledore thought that, then it was good enough for Lily.

So she had skipped the Quidditch party, not wanting to see James or his friends. What would she say to them? Instead, she had chosen to stay in the seventh year dorm with a couple of books for company, despite the fact that all of her friends were downstairs, enjoying the alcohol and the euphoria that comes from a victory that leads to the House Cup. Lily was rather grateful, actually – when she woke up in the morning, Emmeline was passed out on the floor, still in her school uniform, while Fiona was curled up on Tracy's bed and Isabella hadn't even made it up the stairs. Tracy was sleeping peacefully, of course, even if she was on Isabella's bed.

Now, days later, she had successfully avoided Potter/Black and Snape, and she thought that the tense hiatus could probably just continue. She couldn't believe that it was October already, and the leaves had suddenly turned red, and gold, and coppery, even. As she walked from double Charms to Arithmancy, the wind swirled those very leaves across the courtyard and around her ankles. The two classes were on opposite sides of the castle, so she was glad that Flitwick had let them out fifteen minutes early. She was with Remus, the only other Gryffindor in the class. Normally, she'd walk with Marlene, but the Ravenclaw girl was ill today. So she was with Remus. They were friendly, sure, but it varied from day to day whether or not they had a lively conversation.

Today seemed to be one of Remus' worse days; the smudges under his eyes were dark, and his hair was wildly mussed and uncombed, his tie only half done. She'd heard him laugh (quietly) in the middle of Charms today, so that had to count for something. But now he only stared down at the floor, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

He was mute, so she decided to say something. With a bright smile, she said, "I couldn't believe how much work Flitwick assigned us!"

"Mmm." He sighed and adjusted the load of books that he was carrying as they headed through the double doors and down a hallway, slipping past the students who had a free block and were heading to the courtyard, probably to enjoy the sunshine and crisp air.

Silence. Lily peeked at him through her fringe of hair, and it crossed her mind that Remus was a rather attractive bloke, if you were into the serious sort. He was tall, taller than either James or Sirius, and bony, like his bones had grown much faster than the rest of him (she vaguely recalled a short and stocky boy of ten, shorter than Peter, actually). And he had thick, fair hair, high cheek bones, and a faint trace of a scar under one eye, which she'd heard other girls call "dashing." On the whole, though, Hogwarts was a bastion of rather attractive students (Lily had a vague notion that magic and attractiveness went hand in hand, though perhaps everyone was simply using loads of glamour charms), and so he hardly stood out.

He was still quiet, so she kept talking, trying to fill up the space between them with the sounds of words. "I mean, it's not like Charms is our only class, y'know. Most of us have got five or six other NEWTs to deal with."

"Uh huh." They arrived at a staircase, and he cautiously peered over his stack of books and down at the first step.

"I think that's a trick step," she said helpfully, hoping that he would say something. Anything at all.

He nodded, and they skipped that step on their way down the stairs, saying nothing. Merlin, this was uncomfortable.

The thing about her relationship with Remus was that it was a rather off and on sort of friendship. If they were, indeed, friends. It was amazing how few people you could see and actually _know_ in a school so small. Lily rather thought that they were all too busy. So she saw Remus in classes, sometimes, or in the common room, but conversation was always brief and generally light. On his good days, he could be amusing and dryly ironic, but on bad days, like today, he grew increasingly taciturn and morose. On truly bad days, he stuck to himself, or to Potter and Black and Pettigrew. She'd never asked what he was sick with, but she assumed it was pretty bad. And that it was genetic – his relatives seemed to be ill rather frequently too.

Lily glanced down at the notebook she was carrying and saw the top of her Auror application sticking out – she carried it around, but it didn't mean that she'd actually filled anything out. She tried another tack with Lupin, grasping for a conversation starter. "Have you decided where you're applying for next year?"

He tensed, and she realized – too late! – that she'd erred. A snapshot of a memory flashed – Remus walking out of McGonagall's office, tear streaks on his angular cheeks; her giving him a handkerchief. She winced, and cast a discreet look at him.

But everything was all right. He said softly, "McGonagall suggested research positions for me."

She brightened – here was something they could commiserate about! – but just as she opened her mouth to speak, the staircase lurched, and she grabbed the banister for support. Beside her, Remus was fine, standing firm as the staircase moved – he had a remarkable sense of balance, actually. When it finished shifting to the left, the two of them found themselves staring at an entirely different corridor.

"Fuck," she uttered without thinking. Then she blushed. Remus wasn't really one for yelling expletives all over the place. "Oh, sorry."

"No," he said to her surprise, eyes bright. "Fuck is right. We can't get to Arithmancy from here."

She peered down the corridor and found that he was right. Damnit. And the staircases never moved more than once an hour. "So…I guess we'll be stuck here for awhile," she said. She twirled a coppery curl around her finger and glanced over the banister. They were kinda far up, and there were so many staircases below them…She looked away and focused on Remus before the nausea kicked in. She and heights didn't get along very well.

"We'll miss class!" He looked scandalized, shocked out of his stupor.

She couldn't help it; she giggled.

"Lily! We'll have to make up all that work!"

"Oh, relax." She waved a hand airily in the air, feeling oddly calm. "We were just doing our individual work today anyway – you can do it tomorrow, in class. Haven't you skived off before?"

The look on his face said "NEVER." "How can you say that?" He moaned a little, and she resisted the urge to laugh. "As Head Girl?"

She rolled her eyes. "I wish people wouldn't make comments like that. Face it, Remus; I'm just a bad example. Skiving is good for you."

"Mmm." He quieted, but still looked a bit anxious.

She stood there, hand on the railing, letting the silence drag on, and on, and on. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she said slowly, "So…research positions."

"Yup." He stared off into the distance. It was going to be a really long hour spent on this staircase if he didn't break into something other than monosyllables.

She kept talking. "McGonagall did the same for me, actually. Things like Spellcrafting, right? For the Ministry?" She flopped down onto the steps and folded her legs underneath her, then looked up at him and impulsively patted the step above hers. He half-smiled and sat down accordingly, putting his stack of books next to him.

"I think so." He bobbed his head. "The Institute in America also does an exchange, so that I can stay here but my certification will be from there." Yes! Multi-syllabic words! This was what she called progress, around here.

"That's great!" she exclaimed. "I heard they're first-rate for research right now, but I'd never want to live in the States."

He grinned, and she realized that he looked much younger when he smiled. "I have a couple of cousins who live there, actually, but they say the same about England."

She laughed. "It'll be good for you to stay here though." She looked up at him, head tilted, brow wrinkled, picturing him with spectacles and ink-splotched hands, surrounded by piles of old scrolls. It was an idyllic image. "Research fits you."

"Yeah?" He ruffled his hair self-consciously and said quietly, "But you want to be an Auror instead."

"What? Who told you that?" She blinked; she hadn't really talked about her plans to anyone besides Fee, and Isabella, once in a while. Oh, and Jennica, yesterday. Lily hadn't been able to meet with the little third-year until yesterday afternoon, which actually hadn't been a terrible way to spend a Sunday. Poor kid – from all her questions, it had sounded like her project was pretty comprehensive; Lily had spent a couple hours answering questions about her childhood, the differences between Muggle and magical upbringings and traditions, her future plans, etcetra. They actually had plans to meet in a couple of weeks so that Lily could proofread the final essay and make a couple of adjustments.

"James told me." Those words pulled her out of her memories and back towards her conversation with Remus. She looked up at the sandy-haired boy, just in time to see him quirk a faint grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Of course he did." She sighed in good-natured frustration. "There's no point in expecting you four to keep secrets from one another, I suppose."

A strange mixture of happiness and relief passed across his face and was gone in an instant. She wondered if she'd imagined it. "Yeah."

"I'm a little bit envious," she said slowly, thoughtfully, bringing her knees up and hugging them tightly to herself.

He looked shocked, but she was glad that she'd pulled him out of his black mood – he seemed to be interested in what she was saying. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the four of you are so close," she pointed out. "I mean, you've been like brothers practically since the first day of school."

"But you have Adler, and Marquez, and Vance, too. Plus that other girl –" He waved an arm around.

"Tracy Peterson?"

"No, erm, McKinnon. Marlene."

She smiled. "Marlene. She's quite something, isn't she?" One of her quills fell out of her bag; she leaned over and picked it up, tucking it into a pocket of her robes. "But we'll never be as close as you lot. I mean, I guess I'd call Fiona my best friend out of all of them, but we don't really have a ringleader, or anything that really binds us together, except that we're all Gryffindors."

He chuckled wryly and nodded, blushing a little bit. "I'm really lucky with my friends."

"No, they're lucky to have you!" she protested. "You're worth just as much, if not more, than Potter, or Black, or Pettigrew."

"You don't understand." He dusted off his robes. "Sometimes, I can't believe that they still like me."

"Why wouldn't they like you?" she asked, scooping her hair into a thick ponytail and fastening it with a thick elastic.

He sighed (he sighed a lot, she thought). "It's…complicated. But for one thing, Peter and James have been friends since they were eight, and James and Sirius have known about each other since they were four. They all go back much farther than when I met them, on the train."

"Blood relations run deep don't they?" she commented. She shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. "It's a terrible thing, this…war." Then a thought occurred to her. "Aren't your parents wizards though?"

"Yeah." He glanced away, and she saw the thin ridge of his scar, outlined on his cheek. "But I didn't really get out much when I was a kid."

"Too many books, so little time?" she joked, feeling the tension in the subject.

Remus grinned, a look of relief flickering on his face. She didn't question it. He was a very complicated fellow. "Sure. Something like that."

"Anyway, the longest friends don't necessarily make the best ones," she found herself saying, turning her gaze out to the abyss, her thoughts drawing inward.

"No?" He lifted one graceful, thin eyebrow, a trace of a smile playing around his lips.

"Mmm…" and she suddenly found everything that had been running through her mind for the past couple of days just come bubbling up and out of her mouth. Lily wasn't good at bottling things up – she was much better at talking things through. But the whole thing after the Quidditch game, with Severus…how did she explain that to Fiona? Her and Potter…something was different these days. But Remus, Remus, the most impartial boy of the four. Remus would understand. And then she was saying, "I met Severus a couple of years before I even got the Hogwarts letter."

"Really? Is that why you stuck with him all these years?"

She turned back to look at him. "You didn't know that?" She'd thought that everyone knew that. Sevvy had been her childhood friend, the kid she'd run to when Petunia had pulled her hair or teased her. He'd been the one that had showed her the wonder of magic. For crying out loud, he'd been the one that she shared chocolates with on sticky summer days, or had over for dinner when her mother asked her where her friends were.

And she'd turned her wand on him, effectively finishing off whatever friendship they'd had, and she was having difficulty sealing off those memories for good. She didn't do well with finality, and here was something so final, she didn't think she'd ever be able to talk to him again. "Then why did you think that we were friends?" she inquired, feeling rather curious.

"Oh, I don't know. I mean, the two of you were friends…and then suddenly, you weren't." He shrugged. "Padfoot thinks you're soft."

"Am not!" she exclaimed, trying to hide her surprise that Sirius Black thought anything about her at all.

"Well, it did look like you took pity on him," he pointed out.

"He used to be a nice person!" She looked down at her shoes. "First year, he took pity on me – I didn't have a lot of friends back then."

"You had friends!"

"Potter bothering me all the time doesn't count, Remus," she said dryly, pulling herself away from the memories of a sad, lost little girl and towards the image of a tiny (before his growth spurt, Potter had been the shortest kid in the first year, while Peter was the tallest) boy with large glasses and unruly black hair, laughing arrogantly and almost maliciously, wand in hand. That wasn't to say that he didn't have an ego now, but it was rather contained, transmuted more into confidence than arrogance. He'd been so unruly and rebellious back then. "And Sevvy was good to me."

"Ah." He nodded again, then said, with mock gravity, "on behalf of our eleven-year-old selves, I should apologize for the way we treated him, then."

"And now?" she said tartly, hugging her knees closer, that recent encounter with Severus echoing in her mind. "You can't possibly have anything to say for what happens now."

"I don't know why James doesn't like Snape, but Sirius hates him for family" – meaning blood status related – "problems. I mean, Snape and I don't get along. For…personal reasons. It's complicated." He paused before saying, "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything." She'd _pulled her wand on him._ That was so much worse than using her Head Girl authority. Why hadn't she just taken points? Or threatened to take points?

Because she was an idiot, that was why. And apparently he thought her a bit of a slag.

"Are you mad at James?"

What? She twisted her head around to gape at him, eyes wide. That was the last thing she'd thought she'd ever hear out of Remus' mouth. "Why?" she sputtered out.

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug – classic Remus at his most laconic and bland. "Because he thinks you're upset with him."

She tried to say something, something that would fill the space between them with answers and ideas, but the truth was that she still didn't know. So that was what she told him – the truth.

He pressed on. "He's been rather stroppy. He keeps muttering about Snape and you and apologies. Although sometimes he mentions Darcy." She giggled at that last bit. "And Padfoot's going to wring his neck if he doesn't shut up soon. Wormtail doesn't even go into the dorm anymore, so that he doesn't have to hear about it."

"What's with the nicknames, anyway?" she asked, knowing that she was avoiding the question. But it was a strange day for her and Remus to be having such a conversation. "You've had them since, what, fourth year?"

"Something like that." He leaned back and rested his head on a step, gazing up at the ceiling. "That's another…complicated story. Involves…animals and things."

"My, my, Remus Lupin," she teased, feeling rather relaxed, tucking her robes around herself to get more comfortable. "You seem to be a rather complicated person."

"Not really." They lapsed into silence, but it was a calm one this time, instead of the terse tension they'd experienced (or she'd felt; maybe it was one-sided) before.

Remus really was a rather strange boy. A conundrum, in fact. He had always seemed pale and wan and serious, and yet he was adored and fiercely protected by his friends, and vice versa. He was also good at prefecting – he took notes in meetings! – but participated in quite a few, if not all, of the pranks that the Marauders pulled. He was quiet and grave and ironic, yet sardonic and bemused. Who was Remus, really, with all of these oxymorons? Who was the boy underneath all of this?

She clicked her tongue and shook her head, trying to shake off these thoughts. After a couple of minutes had passed, she made up her mind, letting go of her knees and reaching over to the side for her bag, pulling out a scroll of parchment.

Lily Evans was going to be _productive_.

"Care to start in on the essay Flitwick just assigned?" She took out a quill and a bottle of ink. He mumbled something, but took out his equally long scroll and a quill anyway, and they started working.

As she hunched over her parchment and wrote about Time-Delay Charms and how Remote-Activation might actually be more effective, her mind drifted back to the problem of Remus. She'd never really spent much time with him (she was beginning to realize that she had spent very little time with any of the Marauders; was she really so secluded?) beyond the occasional small talk, but this conversation had only perplexed her more. In addition, his girls had been few and far between, while his friends, between the three of them, had probably wound their way through most of the school. She counted herself among those girls; on Valentine's Day in third year, she'd somehow ended up on a blind "date" with Sirius Black (courtesy of Fiona; it had ended badly, and Sirius and James had had a falling out that lasted approximately a week).

"So…" It was several seconds before she realized that Remus had been speaking to her (of course, there was no one else around). She put her quill down and looked up. "You never answered my question." Whoops.

She twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger, thinking. Finally: "…I'm not mad at him."

"You don't sound like you're not mad."

"A double negative? It's not like you."

A smile tugged at the side of his pale mouth. "I'm lightening up, I suppose."

"So he thinks I'm upset?" Maybe she could just let him think that. What was the harm?

"I s'pose you could put it like that. You should talk to him."

"We talk!" That was enough of her essay, she thought, rolling up the scroll (Fifteen centimeters out of 100 wasn't bad, right?) and tucking it carefully into a side pocket of her bag.

"Yeah, I can see that from all of the avoidance you've been doing in the last couple of days." Ah. That was probably harmful to Head Boy-Girl relations.

"Oy!" She flicked him lightly on the shoulder. "I know nothing about avoidance."

"Uh huh." To her utter surprise and delight, he leaned forward and flicked her back. "He's confused, you know. He's not sure what he did to hurt you."

"Well, maybe he should ask!"

"It's a bit hard for him to do that when you're apparently avoiding him." He must be feeling better; that dry wit was back.

"Well –" she sputtered, trying to figure out how best to word this. But she had nothing to say. "Tell him I just need some time to think."

Remus waited a beat before asking the obvious. "About what?"

She flapped a hand at him and sighed. "It's hard for me, all right? I mean, Severus was my best friend, and James and I were getting along so _splendidly_" – she didn't notice that Remus smirked a bit at that – " before _this_ happened. Because – because of James, I _hexed my best friend!"_ The stark truth burst out of her mouth and hung in the air, suspended. She froze – she hadn't said that to anyone. What was it with her these days and bursting out with strange moments of truth? No wonder she'd never been so honest in the past – honesty was _hard_.

"So…" Remus said slowly, drawling out each word, "you're mad at James because it's his fault that you hexed Snape. Who is, incidentally, an ex-best friend."

She sounded stupid. She moaned and said so, putting her head in her arms.

He chuckled dryly. "I think I get it."

"Really?" She lifted her head and stared up at his faded blue eyes, seeing understanding in his eyes.

"Well, no," he admitted, "but am I supposed to say that I don't really understand? Padfoot claims that all blokes should just act understanding. Apparently it helps get girls."

She couldn't help but giggle. "Sounds about right. That's definitely in Fiona's list of qualities for extraordinary blokes."

"Adler has a list?" She nodded and he let out a low whistle. "So what's an extraordinary bloke, exactly?"

Lily ticked off the long list on her fingers. "Taller than her, handsome, sensitive, funny, intelligent, nice to her friends (ie. me, Isabella, or Emmy), chivalrous, honest, exciting, humble, caring…did I leave anything out?"

He chuckled again. "I don't think so."

"Oh yeah! Being wealthy and a wizard would also be a plus, but it's not totally required."

"Adler sure is picky…"

In a swotty voice, she said, "She has _taste_." But Fiona did have high expectations. Fabian barely measured up for Emmy (but since he did, Fee and Emmy were getting along better these days), and Edgar Bones was just an ordinary bloke, but Isabella was bored, and here Fiona and Lily were, single and too picky for their own good. "I guess blokes aren't as choosy 'bout their girls, huh."

"What?" He started slightly.

"I mean, I guess you're a little choosy. You don't date much, yeah?" Lily drew her knees to her chest and hugged them.

He shrugged. "Don't really have the time."

"I know what you mean."

"But blokes can be choosy!" he objected.

"Oh yeah? Don't tell me – the four of you have a list of qualities?" she teased.

"Actually…" he looked around shiftily.

"Really?" she giggled. This skiving off class was turning out to be interesting and far better than actually going to Arithmancy. She wondered if this counted as "spying on the enemy," for her friends – this was more dirt on the Marauders then she'd ever had. "What's on it?"

"Well, each person has a different list. They're all rather specific, actually, and I'm not sure I can tell you, since you haven't sworn the Marauder Blood Oath."

"Blood Oath, eh?" She searched her mind for a way around that, and then she remembered something James had said a couple of days ago. "Wait. James said that I was part of the Secret now. Something about procrastination and figuring you guys out?"

His eyes widened. "He said that to you?"

"Mmm." She nodded her head. "So, doesn't that count?"

"I…guess so," he said uneasily. "Erm…" And maybe he would've told her, but just then, the staircase shifted again, and she clutched her bag, making sure that nothing fell out of it. They were sitting this time, though, so there weren't any clumsy falls. When the stairs finished moving, the pair of them stared at the corridor, the one they were meant to go down about an hour ago. Class was probably over by now. This conversation, too. She had Ancient Runes next, and she was pretty sure that he had a free period. In the opposite direction.

She stood up and offered her hand to the tall prefect. "Need a leg up?" He took her hand firmly and she pulled him up to his feet. They dusted themselves off and awkwardly flicked glances at each other. "Erm…I guess I'll see you later then," she said finally.

"I guess so."

She swung her bag onto her shoulder and cocked her head in one direction. "I'll…be going then. " He mumbled something, and she turned and started to walk up the stairs, back in the direction that they'd come from, just as she heard students exiting classrooms and moving through the corridors to their next classes.

"Wait!" It was the loudest outburst from him that she'd heard in a long while. She looked back. "Erm…" he shifted around uneasily. "D'you want some chocolate?" He held out a half-eaten bar. "I…always carry around chocolate around," he admitted sheepishly.

She had to laugh. It might look weird, but it merely added to the puzzle that was Remus. She'd have to add adorable to his list of qualities. So she walked back to him, broke off a piece of chocolate, smiled winningly at him, and left.

He really was a conundrum, but hopefully one that she'd understand in time.

ooo

Okay, so I actually finished Chapter 17 today, but seems to be down right now, alas. I'll be posting 10-17 over the next couple of weeks. :)


	10. Extraordinary Boys and Serious Issues

**Extraordinary Boys and Serious Issues**_  
_

_October 3, 1977_

"Lily Marie Evans, what do you know about Adrian Fawcett?"

"'Kay, that's not my middle name." Lily looked up from her book, blinking up at Fiona. "Fawcett…he's the Ravenclaw prefect, right? A...seventh year, isn't he?" She recalled dark brown curls and a strong chin. Seven years at this school, and that was all she knew about a boy. Was she a terrible person?

"Really?" Fiona cocked her head thoughtfully, then sat down next to her on the couch, curling her long legs under her. She shrugged. "Oh well. You got a minute?"

"What's up?" Lily closed up her book and set it down on the arm of the couch, settling in for one of Fiona's rants. They were in the common room (Lily had been here awhile, so she'd managed to nag the prime spot, in front of the hearth), surrounded by most of the rest of Gryffindor. "And what about Fawcett?"

"Nothing." But Fiona looked self-satisfied, like a cat that had gotten the cream. Clearly, she was bursting with news.

Lily sighed, world-weary. "All right. What happened?"

"Oh, Lily." Fiona let out a soft swoon. "How have we not crossed paths before?"

"You and him? He spends a lot of time studying, doesn't he? I see him in the library a lot."

"Ah, because you spend loads of time there yourself." Fiona pulled her hair out of her ponytail and shook out her curls, the blonde color catching the firelight.

"So. You and Adrian, then?"

Fiona nodded and stretched dramatically. "I've been partnered with him in Care of Magical Creatures for the last week. It was _fate._ Lily, he's so funny…and smart…and wonderful." Lily had stopped taking the Magical Creatures class in fifthyear, when she realized that getting bitten by strange creatures was probably not the best way to be spending her days. The same epiphany had occurred to both Emmeline and Isabella, so Fiona was the only one among them who was still taking the class. So, that was perhaps why Lily hadn't witnessed whatever interaction Fiona and Fawcett might have had.

"He asked you to Hogsmeade?" Lily asked dryly, only half-interested.

The blonde girl smiled saucily, batting her eyes. "This weekend. You know, I think he's the One."

"No!" Lily acted shocked. "He's truly extraordinary, is he, now?"

"Yup." She laughed, drawing the attention of other students.

Lily glanced around, seeing the Marauders off in one corner, huddled over something. Plans for a prank, possibly. On the other side of the room, Isabella was playing chess with Thom Lawson, and winning, judging from the smirk on her lips. "Well, I'm glad you found someone incredible. I hope he lives up to your expectations."

"Oh, he _does._" She squealed a little bit, and Lily rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "I don't think you understand, Lily."

The redhead picked up her book again, opening it up to her page. "No, I clearly don't." This was only the latest in the series of blokes that Fiona went out with.

"Oh, Lily, Lily, Lily…" Fiona shook her head pityingly. "I can only hope that you find this happiness someday. I mean, I liked being single, but it's been a few months, you know? I forgot how wonderful it is to have an extraordinary boy around!"

"Mmm…" Lily tried not to think about Thomas, and how ordinary he was. Plus, all of his occasional letters that she simply didn't know what to do with, since he clearly still liked her and she, well, cared not one whit for him. It had already been a month, but he was still writing! Fiona had suggested that she ignore him entirely, but she didn't have the heart (or lack thereof) to do that. So she wrote back (though tersely), and regretted it, because he was sure to reply.

Well, it was a conundrum for another day. Around them, students were packing up their things and heading down to dinner. Her stomach growled. "Hey, Fee, want to go get some food? I missed lunch today." She'd been in the library, doing some advanced proofs for Flitwick.

"Yeah, sure. I told Emmy I'd meet her down there." Fiona leaped up off the couch, and Lily yawned, feeling exhausted by the sheer exuberance that Fiona was currently exhibiting. As they walked out of the portrait hole, she sent off a silent prayer to whoever was listening. _Please let this Adrian Fawcett be the One for Fee._

ooo

_Evans – _

_According to the schedule, we've got patrol tonight at 8. See you in 5._

_JP_

ooo

"Oy, Evans!" An unfortunately familiar voice hollered up the stairs of the girl's dormitory, the ring of the name winding all the way up the stairs and into the ears of the seventh year Gryffindor girls.

"You're quite wanted, Lily," Isabella said, leaning into the mirror to reapply a bit of blush and lip gloss. "I suggest you give the boy what he wants."

"Ew!" Emmeline shuddered from where she was lying on her bed, turning the page of her _Witch Weekly_. "All boys want one thing, and I hardly think that you should give it up to Potter."

Lily turned from the window, scrap of parchment in hand, to glare at her friends. "Oh, sod off, all of you. I'm stuck with him for patrols tonight. See you in a couple of hours." She stalked out of the room, ignoring the giggles and catcalls. As she clattered down the stairs and into the common room, she threw her hair up into a high ponytail, tugging a few stray strands out of her face.

He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, looking like he had all the time in the world. "Took you long enough," he said, eyes carrying a faint hint of bemusement. Life clearly had more things to do in its time than to be fair; James looked so put together and calm, with a perfectly mussed thatch of black hair, crooked glasses, and clean school robes. And here was Lily, with oily hair and a stain on her front pocket that was quite possibly pumpkin juice. She tried (and failed) to ignore the fact that he managed to look so flawlessly flawed and just so damn _good_. How was it that some people could make **'**being messy**'** rather attractive and **'**effortlessly nice,**'** and others, like her, just looked like a mess?

Lily said sharply, "I only got your note a second ago. I think your owl's a bit daft, if it takes five minutes for it to fly around the **t**ower." She walked towards the portrait hole, not waiting for him to catch up. Not that she'd admit it to him, but she felt a faint trace of nervousness about this whole ordeal. These were the first words they'd exchanged since Friday afternoon, and they hadn't exactly been friendly ones either. What had happened to their agreement to be friends? To be a good Head Boy and Girl?

She didn't know.

Behind her, as she climbed past the Fat Lady and into the hallway, she heard him run to catch up. "Oy!"

"What?" She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out her watch, sliding it onto her wrist. Fiona had borrowed it earlier (something about practicing with Timed Charms), and Lily was glad that the other girl had remembered to return it. Fiona had a terrible memory.

"Slow down, will you?"

Lily, exasperated, blew out a puff of air, but she stopped in the center of the hallway and waited for him to catch up. When he did, she kept walking, not knowing what to say. Before this year, they'd hardly ever had conversations that lasted longer than thirty seconds (if you considered pick-up lines to be conversation, anyway). And now… like they had agreed**,** on the train, they would be friends. Now, they had meetings, and they talked in the common room, and made jokes in the hallways. Sometimes, they even walked to class together. And that was what friends did, right?

In light of their current 'fight,' she had realized that their friendship was strong enough for its absence to be noticeable. It was a strange realization; she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"So…patrol is four hours, right?" His voice came out light and cautious. Clearly, she was not the only uncertain one around here.

She nodded tersely, fidgeting with her hands a little bit. What did she say? What _could_ she say? What did you say in this sort of circumstance, when you were foraying into an uncertain friendship?

If you were brave, you started a conversation and you let the other person know that everything was all right, that there really wasn't anything bad between them (that was how she felt – after talking to Remus yesterday, she'd recognized that they weren't talking over nothing at all. And here she went, using negatives everywhere!). If you were brave, you just _talked_, and acted normal.

But Lily was a coward, so she said nothing, and fidgeted, and kept walking down the hallway.

Ten minutes later, James Potter made it clear that he was a rather brave person. "I – I wanted to say that I'm still sorry," he said softly. She peeked through her fringe at him – he was staring down at the ground, hands in the pockets of his robes. Okay, so maybe he wasn't terribly brave, but he certainly had more courage than her.

_Man up, Evans._ She shrugged, her hands busy with smoothing down her robes. Then, tilting her head to look at him, she said, equally softly, "I'm sorry too, Potter." What? This was probably the first time she had ever apologized to Potter, and meant it. Looking back, she felt like she'd probably overreacted to the entire situation. And now she was tired of dealing with its consequences. Hesitantly, she added, "Let's just…move on, and forget about it, okay?"

He looked down at her and nodded his head slowly. There was something inscrutable in those hazel eyes, something rare and ineffable.

Right. That was settled then. After a long, wordless moment, Lily yanked her gaze away from his own and focused on her shoes. The matter was settled, but was it forgotten? She tried not to step on any cracks, counting the number of flagstones under her feet as they strode through the corridors, flashing their badges at the students who were out past curfew. _One tile, two tiles, three tiles, four. Five, six, seven…_

"How's that Auror application treating you?" She couldn't help but gape at him, feeling a little incredulous. Here she was, trying to deal with the finality of the end of her and Severus, as well as feeling flattered that James would leap to protect her at the slightest provocation. Perhaps he was merely trying to have a reason to hex Severus, but it was true that there had been no incidents between the two boys since last November. What had even happened then? No one knew, save for the people involved, of course. The whole situation, and her feelings about it, was all immensely complex, and she felt completely muddled, and here he was, switching subjects with the ease of the dull-witted, which he wasn't.

Did all boys have the emotional range of rocks?

She muttered something incoherent. In truth, that application was still tucked between two textbooks, still unfilled. What did it matter? She wasn't due to meet with McGonagall for another few days, anyhow.

"You know it's due soon, right?" His voice was light and teasing once more, like it used to always be. Before this Severus thing, and before they'd been given responsibilities…before whatever bonds they shared had been _serious._ "I think the deadline is January first."

She scoffed. "That's not _soon._ I have like" – _October, November, December_ – "three months. That's a long time."

That cocky grin of his appeared, his white teeth flashing in the dim twilight. It was all too familiar. "Procrastinating, aren't you?"

"Ah, yes." She felt the mood tangibly lighten**,** and she was glad for the change. "Just once in awhile, of course."

"Need any help with that? There's always tomfoolery to be had." She noticed that his eyes sparkled when he was in a good mood.

"The Secret, wasn't it?" A stray remark that Remus had made last night echoed in her ear. She furrowed her brow. "Remus was going to tell me something last night, but he couldn't because I didn't swear the 'Marauder Blood Oath.' You lot have an oath? Isn't that a bit cultish?"

"Well, aren't we a bit of a cult?" he replied, a dimple appearing at the side of his mouth.

She smiled. "I suppose so. A very exclusive cult. With code names and everything." They went up the stairs**,** stopping briefly to pull a poor first year Hufflepuff out of a trick step before continuing on their way. "You lot also gossip worse than a gaggle of third year girls."

"That's right." They stopped in front of an alcove and he loudly cleared his throat, startling the two – Ravenclaws? – who were apparently having a bit of a private snogfest. They looked up, blinked briefly, and scuttled out of sight, hopefully to their rooms. Lily forgot to dock points. "So…I hear you're jealous of me, Evans?" There was that grin again.

"Wh-hat?" Then she remembered. "See? Case in point. You four share way too much with one another. I only talked to Remus yesterday!"

"Moony is always a relative fountain of information."

"Yeah, well, either he told you wrong (which is unlikely) or you heard wrong. I didn't say I was jealous of _you_, Potter."

"Ouch! That hurt."

"Oh, sod off." She shoved him lightly, laughing when he stumbled to the left. "I said that I was just jealous of what you lot _have._"

"Which is what, exactly?"

"Well, this!" She waved her arm around for effect. "That _bond_ you have." He just looked at her, and she felt at a loss for words. "It's like, okay, look. You'd die for any of them, right?" He nodded, and both of them smiled when they passed Professor Flitwick. "And they'd die for you. Cor, they'd father your children for you if necessary!" She looked down at her shoes as she repeated the same sentiment she'd expressed to Remus. "Fee and Bella and Emmy are lovely, but when it comes down to life-changing decisions, I don't know if we're all united like that." Why was she telling him this?

His eyebrows drew together and he pursed his lips, thinking. Finally, he said, "You mean, about the war."

"Eh?"

"Well, that's the first instance that I could think of in which anybody might be dying." His teeth flashed in a quick grin.

What was it with blokes and completely surprising you with where their minds went? It was so tangential, so illogical, so…_right_. "I guess so," she said thoughtfully. "But then, almost everything relates to the war these days, doesn't it?"

He chuckled darkly. "They still have yet to declare it as such, have you noticed?"

"Yeah, in the Prophet, it's just **'**mysterious attacks**'** here and there." Every day, it seemed like there was a new article in the paper. At first, they'd been featured on the front page, but as time went on, the articles steadily wound their way from the headlines, to the back pages. They were so prolific now, those reports of attacks. Mostly Muggles, or Muggleborns – blood was apparently a large factor.

"So, you mean that you don't know where they stand?"

"What?"

"Adler, and Vance, and Marquez," he said, returning to the previous subject. "You're the only Muggleborn in the lot, aren't you?"

"I guess so," she repeated. Where _did _they stand? "Isabella has ties to the Ministry, especially to the Wizengamot, and her dad's a diplomat, so she leans more anti-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; and Emmy's simply not interested in politics, wizarding or otherwise. And Fiona…" she blinked. "I don't know about Fee." How could she not know something so important about someone, something so integral to a person's personality? And Fee was everything to her. But her background, her beliefs…did they have only a superficial friendship? No, that couldn't be true. She and Fiona talked about everything, really.

Everything**,** but their families, their backgrounds. Lily remembered when Fiona had come over unexpectedly, and Lily hadn't been there to prepare her family. That had almost been a disaster. If it had been any other friend (poor Alice Prewett had gotten into a shouting match with Petunia, the one time that she came over), things wouldn't have gone over so well. Not that things went smoothly then, either.

"Do you know who Adler's parents are?" James said, voicing her thoughts.

She shook her head. She'd seen them at the train platform, of course, and they'd looked like ordinary wizards, with plain robes and conservative haircuts. And she knew that Fiona had an older brother, Logan, who was in training right now for…Auror? Cursebreaker? She couldn't remember.

"Adler is Pureblood through and through," he informed her, as they finished their rounds of the second floor and climbed up to the third. "Her parents don't like Muggleborns, but they don't believe in killing them or anything drastic. That's probably why you haven't really heard about them. So they're staying neutral at the moment. And Isabella's a Half-blood, I think, so she's leaning against Voldemort. You're right about Vance, even though her family is on our side. She's technically a Half-Blood, too, because her mother is a Muggleborn witch."

That was a lot of information to take in all at once. They walked in silence as she processed what he'd just said. Finally, she asked, "What do you mean by 'our side**'**?"

He shrugged**,** with that easy confidence that came (she knew instinctively) from being a pureblood wizard. She'd always thought that wizards never realized what Muggleborns had to go through, being thrown into a new life like this and being forced to adjust. Seven years later, there were always occasional moments when she'd realized that she was, in fact, an immigrant to this Wizarding world. Moments like this – she supposed that there were moments in the Muggle world where it was your heritage that mattered, but that had all been decades ago, hadn't it? Things were different now, right?

Apparently wizards were a bit backwards. She knew that, but sometimes she forgot. "You know. The anti-Voldemort and Death Eaters side."

"Aren't you pureblooded though?" she asked. "I mean, why are you throwing in with, well, this lot, as opposed to theirs?"

He just looked at her for a second, and she realized suddenly that their conversation had gotten rather serious. This was all the stuff that mattered, though, wasn't it? Then he shrugged again. "The way I see it, Voldemort's a bit daft, really."

"But he's got all of this power; he must have accumulated it somehow!" she protested.

He shook his head. "You're not seeing the bigger picture. His whole…ideological motive, I guess, is grounded in the fact that he thinks Muggleborn wizards are inferior to pureblooded wizards. And that's hardly true."

"Well, how can you know that?" she pressed. Wizards often had all the advantage in the magical world; natural-born citizens did much better than immigrants any day. "What makes you so sure that he's wrong?"

Behind her, James was snorting, but she'd just noticed that a door to a deserted classroom was ajar. She opened the door and ushered a third year couple out of it, warning them that if they got caught again, she'd dock ten points. Needless to say, this was already the fourth time she'd caught them this year, and she'd yet to dock them any points at all. When she turned back to look at him, he was gaping at h**e**r incredulously.

"What?" Lily looked down at her shirt to see if there was a stain or something. No stain, but she _was_ missing one of the middle buttons on the shirt. She blushed and drew her robes closer around her body.

He'd stopped walking. "Lily, just look at yourself."

She did so. "Is that pumpkin juice on my robe pocket really obvious? Because I didn't have time to wash my robes before I got your bloody note."

He laughed. "You look great, as always." She stared down at her feet, feeling her cheeks light up a little. "But seriously. You're Head Girl, and you're smart, and pretty, and you're clearly going to be successful, you know?" She scoffed, but he shook his head, his eyes very serious. "People like you are proof that he's completely wrong. There's no superiority in being a pureblood; it's about what you have as a person that determines your success, innit?"

When was the last time someone had complimented her so much? She couldn't remember. _"You look great as always…you're smart, and pretty._" Was that what he really thought about her? She stared at her shoes. Since when had she cared what he thought, anyway?

He was squirming uneasily by the time she looked up at him. "Anyway, I'd rather be a blood traitor than support people who believe that killing and terrorizing are the only answers to everything." Lily nodded, saying nothing, and he looked at his watch. "Cor, it's almost midnight. I think we can call it a day, don't you?" He peered down the darkness of an empty hallway. "There doesn't seem to be much mischief**-**making tonight."

"Sure," she muttered**,** her hand going up to her ponytail to twirl it nervously. James and her didn't seem to fall into any of the ordinary courses for a boy-girl friendship. Not that boys and girls were generally friends anyway. She had Remus (but that was always off-and-on), and Peter (who she tutored, and talked to, once in awhile), and that Alexander Goshawk technically counted (as in, he followed her around a lot and she generally ignored him). So she and James were in uncharted waters, and she wondered where they were going. They were civilized, they joked around, and now they were dealing with serious issues, like war, and blood status, and other things (like the fact that he thought she was pretty).

_…"her family is on our side." _"What do you mean by 'our side,' Potter?"

"Hmm?" He was staring off into the distance, completely relaxed. Watching him, she thought that he looked completely at home here, arms swinging, head tilted, framed by the stone walls and portraits.

She repeated herself. "You said 'our side.' We're on the same side?"

"Of course."

"Well…how do you know that?" she found herself asking.

And then there was that grin again (she still wasn't sure what she thought about it), his eyes sparkling in the torchlight. "Lily, no matter what, we'll always be on the same side."

Lily faced forward again, but as they climbed the stairs to the **t**ower, she felt a trace of a smile playing about her lips.

ooo

**Ministry of Magic**

**Application for Auror Training**

_(Page 1 of 12)_

**Name**: Lily Evans

**Age**: 17

**Hometown**: Blackheath

**School**: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

**Why you want to be an Auror (in 250 words)?** I want to fight on the right side of the war. And I want to help fight Voldemort and his ideology, because his ideology is idiotic and entirely untrue. So, I want to disprove it. Also, post-war, I want to make the world a better place and I believe in the law…

**Who recommended you for Auror Training**? Professor Minerva McGonagall

**Letters of Recommendation:** Professor Minerva McGonagall and Professor Filius Flitwick

**What skills do you bring to the Auror field? **I don't know about skills, but I have high marks in Charms, Arithmancy, and Potions. I am currently considering developing a senior project that utilizes Arithmancy in combination with advanced Charms in order to predict the efficiency and effectiveness of a Cheering Charm. In conjunction with Professor Flitwick, I will be …

ooo

Review, review, review!


	11. Failing to Disappoint

_Friday, October 14, 1977_

Lily always wondered how other people spoke to Professor Minerva McGonagall, especially in this one-on-one meeting nonsense. But also, in general, in the classrooms, or in House Council, or even when they were just passing by in the hallway. Did they say hello, or wave, or smile? In Career Advice, did others nod and agree readily with what McGonagall suggested (aka, ordered)?

She wondered, because she usually treated the professor with an odd mixture of deference and light banter. She was more deferent when it was just the two of them (McGonagall's laser of intimidation and concentration – something about her eyebrows - was frightening when focused on just one person), but she bantered more in class (because that same laser panned out and reduced in intensity when there were multiple targets), and Lily liked to banter a lot.

Today, there was most definitely a great deal of deference involved. Ten minutes ago, she had handed in the first part of her first draft (she had only just started being productive and serious, and Rome wasn't built in a day, right?) to her head of house. And now she was sitting here, silent, watching McGonagall purse her lips every now and again. She was also listening to the occasional "hem" or "haw" that issued out of the older woman's mouth and came to rest on the heavy wooden desk. They were neither positive nor negative sounds, and so Lily just wasn't sure what McGonagall was thinking. Inscrutably omniscient, she was.

Finally, as she stared down at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap, she heard a terse, quiet, "Miss Evans."

"Hmm?" Lily bit her lip, steeling herself for the worst, the inevitable criticism. _What was she thinking_?

The Transfiguration professor put the sheaf of parchment onto the desk and slid her hands against the sides to mold them into a nice, neat pile. McGonagall was all about the orderliness of things. "Well." She paused, her eyes large and dark behind the rims of her spectacles, her hair neatly pinned up into a bun, not one strand out of place. Lily wondered how old she was, then wondered why she was thinking about that when she should be focusing on what McGonagall had to say. With some effort, she pulled her hands apart and let them rest in her lap.

Bugger. Now her left knee was jiggling and she stared at it, trying to order it to stop. Was she really so nervous? It was just a stupid application.

"This is a good start."

Lily blinked, those five words slowly sinking into her brain. Surely that hadn't come out of McGonagall's mouth. That was…well, almost akin to praise, wasn't it? "Sorry, come again?" So much for deference; she immediately regretted her tone, waiting for her professor to narrow her eyes.

But she didn't. McGonagall repeated herself, and continued, paging through the sheets, as Lily continued to blink and sit very still, back rigid. "Granted, you still have a great deal to finish – you do realize that the Auror application is extensive? – but this is a good beginning."

"Oh," Lily said finally, weakly. "Thank you." A bubble of hysterical laughter fought to rise up her throat, but she quelled it. Where was the criticism? The scolding? It was what she habitually expected.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "The first couple of pages are fine, though you might want to elaborate further on your seventh-year project, since it appears to be rather complicated. However, on page four, you seem to be missing something."

Lily tried to think. _Page four, page four, what the fuck was on that page?_ "Erm…"

"Your activities outside of academia, Miss Evans," McGonagall clarified. Here was the inevitable eyebrow raise. "You seem to be lacking." With a flick of her bony wrist, the sheet in question was pulled out of the stack and turned around so that Lily could read it right side up. McGonagall crossed her arms.

Lily spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness, her mind darting along convoluted tunnels and pathways. What had she written down? There'd just been so _much_ of it, and James and his gentle reminders about the blasted thing all week had grated on her nerves a little bit.

"Ms. Evans, I do believe that you participate in things besides your studies, do you not?" Lily shrugged, and realized immediately afterwards that she might be appearing insolent. Oh well. "According to your teachers, you are actively involved in the Charms Club and you have been, of course, a prefect for two years." McGonagall peered sternly down at Lily, and the seventeen-year-old girl tried not to cower under that laser beam. Where had the woman learned such a skill? Lily wished she had it. "You left this question blank, and yet you are also our current Head Girl, which I hope you realize is an achievement in and of itself, despite the work involved. Did you forget?" Her tone made that last word sound as if it was the worst sin that Lily could ever have committed.

Lily leaned forward and scanned the sheet, mouthing the words as she read, _List any and all extracurricular activities_. Oh. That question. "I didn't really feel like I've done much."

If possible, McGonagall's left eyebrow would have shot past her hairline. As such, despite said receding hairline, the sheer impossibility of that meant that her eyebrow, impeccably plucked into shape, rose a good three centimeters higher than normal. Which was still frightening. "Ms. Evans, you never fail to amaze me," she said sharply. "_Listen to me._"

Lily was all ears.

"This is an _application._ A panel of Aurors will read it, and they will make a _decision._ About _you._" Why was the blasted woman stressing so many words? McGonagall's eyes were sharp, focused; Lily cowered under the intensity of her laser-beam gaze. "Not about anyone else. And they need to know _everything._ As such, you need to stop being modest and _start bragging._"

"B-but –"

"No objections," McGonagall said firmly, and Lily clammed up. With another sigh, the woman deftly slid Lily's page four into its rightful place in the stack (Lily watched and said nothing, wondering if this concluded their meeting). Then the professor folded her arms again and leaned back in her large leather chair. "So. You will write all of your achievements down. I also understand that you have been tutoring?"

"Well, it's required of the Head Girl." Lily couldn't help but let the puzzlement show on her face. "Every Monday, with one of the prefects." In fact, she had a group of fourth years to see next Monday.

Was that – was that an eye roll? Was McGonagall rolling her eyes at Lily? Merlin, she _must_ be exasperated, to resort to such measures. They'd ventured far beyond the lands of the eyebrow raises. "Besides the requirements, though I know that you often go over the time limits." Well, Lily enjoyed explaining things to other students. It was something she was good at. "Professor Thorn" – who was Professor Thorn? Lily didn't think she'd ever had him – "mentioned the other day" – Merlin! Did all their professors just sit around and gossip? - that you have been helping Miss Stewart with her term project."

Miss Stewart? Did she even know a – oh. Bugger. They were talking about Jennica. The little third year with the pigtails and a Muggle Studies project. Why, just last Sunday, Lily had sat down with Jennica and gone over her essay for a couple of hours, revising and rewriting the thing until Jennica had gotten everything down pat. Therefore, using her brilliant deduction skills, Lily figured that Professor Thorn must be the Professor of Muggle Studies. Which was probably why she didn't know the man. Woman. Whatever. "Not that much help," she muttered, willing her hands to stop twisting and lay flat on her lap again. "She just asked me out of nowhere."

Hmm. Lily seemed to be trying McGonagall's patience, because her next sigh seemed to be rather frustrated. And world-weary. "Very well, so it seems like nothing to you. Nevertheless, I expect to see that written down somewhere in this stack for our next meeting, as it will help you to stand out." McGonagall was stern. "Which is _important._" Lily gulped. "Is that clear?"

Lily nodded meekly, feeling the tip of her ponytail swish against the back of her neck. Right. Since her next meeting was two weeks from now, she had plenty of time – it didn't seem like much, yeah?

"…and I also expect to see the next four pages. _Completed,_" McGonagall was saying. Damn. But that seemed to be the end of this hellish business…for today, anyway. Lily was halfway out of her chair when she heard, "Also, don't forget about your interview."

"Sorry, what?" She sat back down, her bag falling to the ground with a resigned _thwap!_ "Interview?"

Lily would've sworn up and down that a thin-lipped smile appeared on McGonagall's face for just a split-second. "Your interview. With Alastor Moody."

"The head of the department?" She squeaked, suddenly finding it very difficult to speak.

McGonagall nodded slowly, as if she were talking to a dimwit (which, in a sense, she was). "In February. All prospective applicants have interviews. This is discussed on page fourteen, but I would _infer_ from your reaction that you have not read that far." She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "Very well. Have a good weekend, Miss Evans." Ah, the eternal disappointment.

Lily Evans never failed to disappoint.

She blinked, then realized that she'd been dismissed. Oh. "Erm…bye, Professor." As fast as she could, Lily clumsily tumbled out of her chair and out of the room entirely. Since she was hurriedly securing the flap of her bag as she crossed the threshold of McGonagall's office, she missed the step, and, therefore, practically fell onto someone. "Umph! Sorry!"

"Whoa!" Of course, with her luck, it was Sirius Black who caught her. Sirius Black, who didn't like her, and was staring down her with something akin to bemused irritation. "Watch it, Evans."

She felt herself blush brightly as he steadied her. As she looked up into his cool grey eyes, she saw James and Isabella out of the corner of her eye. Bugger. She _would_ make a fool out of herself in front of a big audience. "Sorry," she muttered. He nodded, his face implacable, and swept past her into McGonagall's office. She watched him go, feeling rather unsettled. He was so aristocratic, and poised, and _impossible_ to deal with.

"Don't roll your eyes, Lily." Isabella stepped forward and adjusted the other girl's robes, clucking her tongue. "It's not very becoming."

"What are you even doing here?" She let Isabella work her magic. "It's a Friday night; shouldn't you be out with a bloke or something? Or in the dormitory?" James was hovering (not literally) behind Isabella, and Lily smiled at him, feeling rewarded when he grinned back.

"I had plans with Emmy tonight, but now you and I can't go into the dorm room because she and Fiona are fighting again," Isabella informed her, a faint trace of amusement in her eyes. As always, she was elegant and dignified, her long black hair pinned up into an elaborate hairstyle.

Lily sighed. Two and a half months into school, and the two were on their third? fourth? big fight. Isabella had always been content to let them work it out amongst themselves, but Lily always felt that they needed help sorting it out. It was always awful when their friends didn't get along. "I'll handle it later."

"It's pretty bad," Isabella warned. "I'm not even sure what their problem is, but I think it started at lunch, since they weren't talking during Herbology." They probably were fighting over nothing, as usual. Last time, it had been about the fact that Emmy had forgotten to copy Charms notes for Fiona when Fiona was in the Hospital Wing. Fiona claimed that Emmeline had been unnaturally distracted by her bloke and that she was acting like a skirt, while Emmeline insisted that Fiona had never asked her to take notes in the first place (Lily was never the assigned notetaker when someone was absent; she had miserable handwriting). Isabella was still talking, oblivious to Lily's opinions. "Hey, where were you at lunch, anyway?"

She wrinkled her brow, trying to remember. "Studying. I forgot about a Transfiguration exam."

James spoke up, cutting into the girls' conversation. "How was your meeting, Lily?" It was late, and so his tie was loose, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. There were dark shadows underneath his eyes; he looked exhausted.

She shrugged. "I guess I'm making progress. Hey!" She put a hand on her hip. "Did you know that we have to have _interviews_?"

He nodded complacently, his hair falling into his face. "Of course. It's in the application."

"You never mentioned that!" She tried to look appalled but secretly she was just happy to speak to him – she hadn't really seen him lately. Or his friends, for that matter. Were they up to something? Well, if so, she was sure to find out eventually.

He cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't read the application."

"Of course not!" She turned to Isabella, her stomach growling. "Is dinner still open? I'm starving!"

"Yeah, but I already ate, sorry." The other girl really did look apologetic. "I was just on my way over to see Laurel before I ran into this one" – she gestured at James – "and Black; I think Laurel wanted to play some chess."

"Laurel…" Lily scrunched up her nose in thought. "Leighton? In Ravenclaw?" She hadn't know that they were friends. Isabella inclined her head. "Okay, fine." She glanced at the tall, lanky boy, who was staring off into space. "James, you coming?"

"Hmm?" He blinked slowly, his long lashes bobbing up and down. Had he not gotten enough sleep? Normally, his reflexes were much faster. "Oh, um, sure. Sounds good. See you later, Marquez."

Isabella gave a slight wave to both of them and began to walk away. Lily and James watched as she went to leave, then stopped and turned back. "Wait, I almost forgot. This came for you while you were with McGonagall." She handed the redhead a thin envelope before she left for good.

"Hmm, let's go, shall we?" The pair of them started walking in the opposite direction of Isabella, their footsteps loud in the otherwise empty corridor. Lily assumed that most people were already at dinner, or in their common rooms. It was a Friday evening, after all. "So, what is that?" James nudged her, staring down at the letter with interest.

"I dunno." The front of it read simply: _Lily_. Damnit; it looked aggravatingly familiar. She flipped it over and slid a finger under the flap, opening it swiftly. "Oh, it's nothing." As she moved to slip the scrap of parchment into the pocket of her robes, he snatched it from her. "Oy! Give that back!"

"'Dear Lily_,'_" he read, that glint in his hazel eyes back. "'Just wanted to say that I'll be passing through Hogsmeade next weekend, and Nancy told me that it's also a Hogsmeade weekend for Hogwarts students.'" She attempted to snatch the letter back, but he held it just out of her grasp. A flicker of remembrance, of what had happened last time James had been around one of these letters, flashed into her mind.

"Oh, c'mon James. Be a gentleman and hand it over!" she pleaded, giggling a little bit. They passed a handful of students, ignoring the looks that were thrown their way.

"Sorry, no morals." He kept reading and laughing, keeping the parchment away from her fingers._ "_'Could we have tea? Let me know.'" Abruptly, his voice changed, becoming serious. "'Love, Thomas.'" She looked up to see that his grin had vanished, and she ducked her head back down. They walked momentarily in a tense silence, Lily staring at the floor, wondering what he was thinking. Was he upset? But he didn't have any right to be, not really. She and James were friends, and that was all.

His voice broke into her thoughts. "So…Thomas is still writing to you." He sounded careful, forcibly light. "And he still loves you." Pause. "I…I thought you two broke up."

She looked at her hands. They were small, she thought, and her nails needed trimming. "We are," she said finally. "It's complicated."

"Want to talk about it?" His eyes were unreadable. She wondered what was going through his mind.

She gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "He wanted to be friends, and he claims he still likes me a lot. He knows that I don't like him, though." She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear as she said, "I think, anyway."

"But he's still writing. Bit of a persistent bloke."

She forced herself to be flippant, to keep the tone of their conversation light. "I'm hoping he'll just give up eventually." They were at the entrance of the Great Hall, and the sounds of happy, well-fed children filtered through the doors. "There's only so long a bloke can chase after a girl, right?" She didn't wait for him to answer; with a faint sigh, she yanked Thomas' letter away from James' unresisting fingers as she hurried into the hall, heading towards the Gryffindor table.

Hopefully, there was pie for dessert.

_Saturday, October 15, 1977_

"Lily?" Fiona came out of the bathroom in a dark blue towel, her hair sopping wet and dripping everywhere. "What's wrong?"

Hmm, her own hair was everywhere too. She ran a hand over it, pulling her hair away from her face. Her movement caused the bed to shake a little, and she readjusted her seated position, her legs dangling off the ground. "It's nothing, really."

"Oh, Lily." Fiona sat down on Lily's bed and patted her hand comfortingly. "You can't lie to me. What happened?" Out of all of their friends, Fiona was the one with a preternatural gift for knowing when people lied. Especially Lily.

"It's nothing!" she insisted. She realized that she and Fee were rather sorry excuses for seventh years; what had happened to their poise, their confidence, or their popularity? Instead, the two of them were sitting on a bed in their dormitory room, completely alone. Isabella was most likely in the Astronomy Tower with Edgar Bones (she and Fee were still in a fight that was apparently about nothing) and Emmeline was in the Owlery, sending a letter to whichever Prewett brother it was that she was seeing.

"Oh, give me that!" Why did everyone insist on stealing her letters from her? What happened to privacy? Fiona attempted to seize the parchment, but Lily was quick on the uptake this time around and sat on the letter. Hah. Success!

"All right," Lily relented. She looked down at her coverlet, her fingers tracing the design of rearing lions, embroidered in the color of red wine. They'd had the same bedding when they were first years. That was what she loved about Hogwarts, of course; the immutable ways of the castle that were just endlessly comforting. "It's from my mother."

"Bad news from home?" Fiona leaned out over the floor and wrung her hair out, the water dripping in beads from the tips of her hair to the plush carpeting. It had gotten long since she'd last cut it over the summer; it was almost halfway down her back now.

"Make sure you put a Drying Charm on the floor when you're finished," Lily commented absently, handing the other girl a hairbrush. With caution, she pulled the crumpled letter out from under her arse and showed it to Fiona. "Petunia's engaged."

"Oh? To who?" The blonde girl walked over to her own bed and flipped open her trunk, rummaging to find clean clothes. "Hey, have you seen my pyjamas?"

Lily tilted her head. "I think Emmy stole them because Isabella hid Emmy's under my bed. I have an extra pair in my trunk." She nodded towards the foot of her bed. "Go ahead. And apparently it's some bloke called Vernon." She frowned.

"Thanks. They might be a little short, though. I'm a bit taller than you." Fiona started rummaging around in Lily's trunk, a dark and strange storage space that was decidedly messier than Fiona's clean and organized trunk. "And wasn't she seeing umm…Mitchell? Back in July?" She pulled out a pair of blue flannel pants and a spaghetti strap shirt. "Thanks, love. And why did Isabella hide Emmy's PJs?"

"I think Emmy stole a shirt. Or something." She folded up the letter. "And I think it was Mitchell, but maybe it was Vernon. I don't know." Lily rolled onto her stomach and propped her chin onto her hand. "Why wouldn't she tell me?" she asked. The real question was, why didn't she and Petunia get along?

"When was the last time she wrote to you, anyway?" Fiona pointed her wand at the cuffs of her pants, magically lengthening them.

"I dunno." But she did. It had been fifth year, when Fiona had screwed up a midnight brew of Pepperup Potion and accidentally dissolved all of the bones down Lily's left side (Gryffindor had lost major points for that debacle). Lily had been forced to go to St. Mungo's, and Dumbledore had even brought in her parents. Okay, so Petunia hadn't come, but she had written a card.

"So, when's the wedding?" Fiona leaned into the mirror. "Do you think my nose is too big?"

"What? No, of course not." Lily rolled her eyes, then looked at the letter again. But she'd already read it, and reread it, and read it a third time too. She'd practically memorized it, all of the familiar words in her mother's familiar handwriting. "Petunia and Vernon haven't set a date, but they're thinking…sometime in the spring." She hung her head off the bed and stared at the damp spot that Fiona had forgotten to charm dry. "Wait; that means I can't be there, because we've got exams. That's so…so… mpf!" She was having difficulty finding words for it. Petunia was petty, sure, but she'd never been so actively _cruel_ before.

"Oh, Lily…" The other girl sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Lily's hair. "Your parents won't let her do that, right?"

"I don't know." Lily blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I mean, I used to know them, but now? It _is_ her wedding, after all. It's her day."

"I wouldn't worry about it, love. Everything will work out." She sounded calm and reassuring. Maybe Fee was right. Maybe Petunia really _would _come to her senses.

Doubtful. "It's just…" She craned her neck to look up at Fiona. "I know that we don't get along, and that she calls me a freak, and everything, but I didn't think that she was so _serious_ about it all! It's just magic, right?" With a flick of her wand, she charmed the carpet dry. "It's nothing terrible, and while it's not always harmless…"

"Some people just don't understand."

"I thought that we'd make up eventually, you know?" She turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. "Like…ten years from now or something. But apparently not."

"It's just a wedding, isn't it?" Fiona swung her legs onto the bed and then promptly laid down next to Lily. "I mean, most wizards aren't even bothering with the big ceremony anymore, what with…things the way they are."

"You don't get it." She sighed. "If it were me, it wouldn't be a big deal or anything, but since it's Tuney…when we were little, she used to plan her dream wedding. She was the bride, and I was the ring bearer. Or the flower girl." She thought for a moment. "Or the wedding planner."

"Who was the groom?" Of course Fiona asked that.

She laughed and admitted, "Our dog." Then she sobered up. "But basically, for Petunia, her wedding is the most important day of her entire life. And she clearly doesn't want me to be a part of it, so…" She drifted into silence, and they stared up into nothing together. Lily was grateful that Fiona didn't try to say anything that would be meaningless comfort.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, on their backs, faces tilted up, but eventually Fiona's hand somehow found its way into her own, and Lily realized that she had tears in her eyes. That was when it hit her, how much this truly meant. She'd always thought that this feud meant more to Petunia than to her, but she'd been wrong, hadn't she?

Fiona squeezed her hand, and she realized that this was what she needed. This was what mattered.

So what if her family didn't want her. After all, she'd found another one.

ooo

Only a few more updates before we catch up! Thanks for sticking with me, favoriting this story, and reviewing! You guys are the best.


	12. Shoddy Spellwork and Strange Hair Colors

**Shoddy Spellwork and Strange Hair Colors**_  
_

_Monday, October 17, 1976_

"Hullo, sorry I'm late!" Lily fumbled with a roll of parchment as she bumped her way past the door of McGonagall's classroom. It was rather late, and Lily had been running from class to class all day long while fielding miniature spats between Emmeline and Isabella (Fiona and Isabella had made up yesterday, but the Emmeline/Isabella problem was definitely pyjama related). So, Lily was exhausted, and angry, and the last thing she wanted to do was handle a gaggle of fourth years and teach them Defense Against the Dark Arts. But here she was, looking into the faces of eight sulky children who were slouched at desks, aligned in rows. They didn't seem to want to be here either; she smiled apologetically.

"Hi, Evans. You're just in time, actually." She (finally!) wrestled the parchment out of her bag and looked up at McGonagall's desk, where she was expecting to see, well, Remus. Because he was the one she was assigned to do this with, which was good. Remus was unfailingly patient, and nice, and good at explaining things. Not that she didn't like to explain things to little kids, because she did. It was just that these sessions were held at night, when children have unfailing amounts of energy, and the teenagers sent to deal with them are world-weary.

But the figure perched upon McGonagall's desk wasn't Remus Lupin. Rather, it was the Head Boy to her Head Girl, in one of his rather chipper moods. Sweet Merlin; she wasn't prepared to handle this. "Where's Remus?" she blurted out, walking up to the desk and dumping her things on top of it. She was distinctly conscious of the staring eyes of these fourteen-year-olds; there would be rumors flying about tomorrow about something, anything, or nothing at all. That was how Hogwarts worked, after all.

James' smile never wavered as she joined him up on the dais, tossing her bag onto McGonagall's desk. "He's, erm, in the Hospital Wing. Asked me to fill in. So. What are we doing today?"

It was a plausible reason, so Lily accepted it, hoping that Remus was doing all right. She'd never tutored with James before, but he was probably pretty decent. With a shake of her wrist, the parchment unrolled in front of her so that she could read it. Dumbledore's handwriting was elegant, but small. Squinting, she read aloud, "Strengthening the Shield Charm." That was simple enough, wasn't it?

She spun to face the students, surveying them. They were from all four houses, she noted, and she wondered why. Usually, she and some prefect were assigned a group of students in one, maybe two houses. It was generally a one-time thing, with no more than five students (if you earned consistently low marks, your professors assigned you to tutoring). But here were eight kids, and it was going to be a weekly thing until the end of the term. Dumbledore had mentioned that these sessions were punishment for something, but he'd been purposefully vague.

"What, a simple _Protego_?" James hopped down from the desk (McGonagall would have killed him if she knew he was treating her desk this way). She nodded and watched with amusement as the girls in the room followed his every move. Apparently they were in awe of their Head Boy. "Okay, everyone, get up." They scrambled to do what he said, despite their initial sulkiness.

Lily hated the fact that she was in a bad temper – this night was just going to drag on _forever_. Allowing herself a tiny sigh, she left the parchment on the desk and slid her wand out from her pocket, saying tiredly, "Wands out, please." She didn't understand it either. Were these fourth years a bit daft in the head? She'd mastered a perfect Shield Charm at the beginning of third year, as had most of her friends. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Christie Saunders, a fellow Gryffindor, passing a pink note to Benjamin Fletcher, a Ravenclaw. Well. There was inter-House unity, right? She let it slide; who was she to prevent silly little Saunders from snagging another boy?

James was pacing around the room and she wondered when he'd become so full of leadership skills. Was this what Dumbledore had seen when he'd chosen Potter as Head Boy? "Okay, spread out into pairs, and let's see what you can do. One of you will shoot an _Expelliarmus_, and the other will block it with a _Protego_. Are we clear?" They nodded, eyeing one another warily. "Oh, and make sure that, if you're the one doing the disabling, you aim _away_ from the wand. This isn't about actual disarmament; we're just trying to see if a shield can block the spell. Any questions?" Silence. "Good. Let's start, shall we?"

She sighed and followed him, watching as he helped Isabella's little brother, Alejandro, who was struggling to coordinate his wand motions with the uttered spell. James was patient, carefully repositioning Alejandro's hands again and again. At first, Alejandro's shield was spotty at best, and lasted only a couple of seconds. But even as she watched, the shield bubbled out, brightening up. James had this in control. She kept going, circling around the younger students, feeling grateful that she had at least 5 centimeters of height on everyone except Ronan Viridian, who was unnaturally tall and thin anyway.

As she walked around the room, she noticed that while the other three houses had mixed, the two Slytherins in the bunch, Ronan and that Peterson girl, had partnered up on their own, talking and casting spells half-heartedly. Oh well; that was what war did, didn't it? She couldn't force them to mix, so she moved on, keeping an eye on Christie and Benjamin. They seemed to be doing more flirting than actual wandwork, which was aggravating. She didn't want to be here any more than they did, so why were they prolonging this? It was a Monday, the start of the week, and Lily was not looking forward to the mountains of homework she'd have to slog her way through tonight. And here were these fourth years, wasting everyone's valuable time…she took back her previous thoughts on the couple.

Her mind made up, she called out, "Viridian! Come here!" He slouched over from his corner and looked at her through heavily lidded eyes, silent. "You and Fletcher will work together. Fletcher, I want you to be on the offense, and Viridian, cast the Shield Charm with more intention, okay?" Groans and protests erupted around her, drawing the attention of the others (including James), but she didn't care. "Christie Saunders, I want you to go over there and work with, erm, Peterson." (She couldn't remember what her first name was. Jane? Jennifer? Possibly Jill.) As Lily had seen, Christie's shield was pretty decently strong. "And I want you to block her attacks, okay?"

With a slight frown, she waved a hand at them, and watched as they slowly did her bidding, grumbling the entire time. They didn't like her as much as they adored James, but that would just have to do. This arrangement was working out better anyway. Jillian and Christie had glared at each other initially, but they seemed to be channeling their anger into their spells, which was good. And while Ronan and Benjamin were being grumpy and laconic, at least they were actually trying now. She moved on.

James was still working with Alejandro Marquez and his partner, Kieran Grey. He'd apparently fixed Alejandro's grip, but now Kieran was having problems with maintaining his shield. Absent-mindedly, she clucked her tongue; James really was pretty good with kids. She kept walking.

"But I don't understand why we have to do this!" Lily spun to find the petite Elizabeth Malkin glaring at her partner, a plump little Indian boy (Kunal Patil, wasn't that his name?). "This is stupid; when am I ever going to have to use this?" For the past few minutes, Lily had observed that Elizabeth's shield was a shadow of a glow, while his seemed to flicker constantly. They both needed work.

"Well, it's useful for – " Kunal began, stumbling over his words in the face of the girl's sputtering outrage. Elizabeth Malkin was the sort of girl that Lily had always disliked. She worked hard at being beautiful, casting layer after layer of glamour charms, but she hadn't learned yet how to modulate her voice, so it was still high and almost shrill. Everything about her was pink and blonde and frilly (Lily had conveniently forgotten that, when they were that age, Emmeline and Tracy had been like this, and Fiona and Isabella and Lily had been friends, shunning or being shunned by those frivolous girls. But Emmeline had grown – for the most part – out of that stage, while Tracy would apparently never change). Lily always wondered if any thoughts actually circulated through the minds of girls like Elizabeth Malkin. She was small and sharp and intimidating to someone like Kunal Patil, who was round and warm and unconfident.

Lily stepped in between the two fourth years, trying to rein in her annoyance. She _hated_ when people intimidated others. It was bullying, that's what it was, and she wouldn't stand for it. "Why do _you_ think we're making you practice the Shield Charm, then?" Fatigue colored her voice with anger, but Elizabeth didn't seem fazed.

"I dunno. Because you hate us?" Elizabeth pouted, and Lily idly supposed that the pout was practiced so that it would appear attractive.

"Wrong answer." She turned her head to look at Kunal, her hair swishing around in her wake. "Well?"

He looked uncomfortable, and she regretted putting him on the spot like this. "B-because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is p-powerful and might a-attack us, so we n-need to know how t-to d-defend ourselves?" he stammered out, staring at the ground.

Here was a clever boy. She smiled approvingly. "Good. You need to master a Shield Charm so that, when I do _this_" – without giving warning, she shot a Color Change Charm at Elizabeth, who failed to raise her wand in time – "you can stop it." Her voice hardened as she stared at the girl (who was now exhibiting signs of turning purple). "Be grateful that that charm isn't actually harmful, Elizabeth." Normally, she wouldn't have done something so extreme as to turn a girl purple, but she _was_ rather irritated.

"My hair!" The formerly blonde girl glared up at Lily. "What've you done to my hair?" She was starting to cry and Lily noted that the other girl had forgotten to learn how to cry prettily. Completely daft, the lot of them.

Winding a strand of hair around her finger, she sighed and felt a tad regretful. "Nothing a little counter-charm can't cure." With a snap of her wrist and a muttered word, the girl was back to normal. She backed away from them so that she could look at them both (Elizabeth was clutching her hair and cursing under her breath). "Kunal is right; you need to learn to protect yourself. Starting now."

"But I'm rubbish at Defense!" Elizabeth spluttered, though her tears seemed to be drying up, now that her hair was, once again, platinum blonde. Bit of a short attention span, there. She _was_ a fourteen-year-old girl, after all. "I haven't been able to do this stupid shield thing in _weeks!_"

Kunal looked mildly interested.

Lily found herself identifying a little bit with both of the fourth-years, and she softened. "Maybe…look, I was complete rubbish when I first started out with this. But you get better with practice."

"B-but…isn't Dark magic a lot stronger than a Shield Charm?" Kunal asked, his voice still timid and small.

She smiled gently. "You'd be surprised what you can do with just a _Protego_! Especially if it's practiced." As she talked, she tried to figure out how to interest both of them and prove that this was worth pursuing. Then – "Here." She beckoned both of them forward. "Okay, on the count of three, I want both of you to cast the strongest hexes you know. Just channel everything you have into those hexes, yeah?" She could measure their offensive ability (Dumbledore wanted them to work on defensive first, obviously) _and_ they could see how strong a Shield Charm really was. It was all about intention, wasn't it? And it was one of her fairly decent ideas…right?

"But – what if we hurt you?" That was Kunal, his dark brown eyes anxious.

Lily smiled with far more confidence than she actually felt. "It'll be fine, don't worry." The truth was that she hadn't practiced this charm in awhile, and even if she was good at charming things… too late now, anyway.

"One, two…" Elizabeth counted, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Three!" The next thing Lily knew, a Jelly-Legs Hex had erupted from Elizabeth's wand and Kunal was firing a Banishing Charm (was that the best he could do? Really? Maybe he didn't want to hurt her). She barely had enough time to shout _Protego!_ and really, really mean it, and then she was watching as her pearly-white shield billowed out around her, rushing to meet the two spells, and she hoped that it was strong enough to counteract –

It worked. Her shield easily absorbed both jets of light and she let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Then everything dissipated, leaving the air completely clear between the three of them.

Elizabeth was the first to speak. "S-so, if we practice, we can do something like that?" Kunal was standing stock-still, staring at his wand with interest.

Lily nodded. "Or a lot stronger, too." Casting spells always made her feel more alive; the adrenaline rush burned away her fatigue and made her forget that she'd even been irritated with them. It's all about intention, you see. You have to _want_ it really badly." She raised her wand and gestured for them to do the same. "Let's try all together, okay?" They lifted their wands and she counted aloud. "One…two…three…_PROTEGO!_" she bellowed, hearing their voices chime in with hers.

Ignoring her own, she watched their shields, which, though still a little spotty and translucent in places, were definitely brighter than before. The shields bumped up against one another and popped like bubbles on a warm summer's day, startling a laugh out of Kunal.

"Wow, that's quite an improvement." Lily turned to see James standing a couple of feet away, arms folded, head tilted, eyes a little crinkled. "Good job, guys."

Kunal stared down at the ground, hiding a bit of a grin, and Elizabeth blushed. _They never change._ Boys would always be cheered by praise from James, and the girls would always blush. Was that just the way things were?

And where was everyone else? The room was completely deserted. Lily turned a questioning glance towards James, and he must have caught it, because he said, "They all completed the assignment. These two are the last." He directed a brilliant grin towards the younger kids as he continued talking. "But definitely not the worst." She watched as they (both of them!) ducked their heads. She'd never seen them be so mute before, either.

She had forgotten how much people looked up to him; to her, in recent weeks, he'd been James, and just James. Not the Head Boy, or the Quidditch captain, or even the boy that she used to ignore in classes. Certainly, he was not the arrogant pureblood from the Potter family. He was different now – he was something of a friend, of sorts. Things had _changed_.

She blinked, realizing that they were waiting for her to say something. "Erm…you lot did well," she managed to say. "See you next week." They shrugged and mumbled something, then gathered their things and swiftly left the room, leaving her and James alone.

Well. She was free to go now, wasn't she? After tucking her wand away, she went to McGonagall's desk to pick up her bag, mentally listing which classes she had to do homework for. _Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy…_

"So…" James' voice trailed off into the distance, and she waited for him to say something more. She turned around. His tie was undone, his shirt untucked…for once in his life, his hair looked genuinely disturbed. Where was that earlier chipper mood? She assumed that handling little kids had probably sucked it right out of him. "Going back?" She nodded, and he smiled, looking as tired as he felt. "Me too, I guess."

Was the bright and happy attitude a sham, then? A show for the public, for the fourth years and the rest of the school? Was this the real him, the genuine article? If so, she was glad that he was showing this to her. It made him more of a human, and less of an idol.

She waited at the door for him to gather his things, watching as he walked to a desk on the far side of the room, where he'd apparently left his robe and a couple of books. When he finally joined her, she flicked her wand at the torches (sometimes, she wondered why wizards had yet to discover electricity) to extinguish them before the pair set out.

They walked in a companionable silence, smiling and nodding at students who passed them on their way to their own dormitories. Then, just as her thoughts were drifting away (maybe she should start with the Ancient Runes essay instead of the Transfiguration one, since that was easiest), she was yanked back to the present by the sound of James' voice. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun?" she repeated, then winced. She sounded like a dolt.

"Well, yeah." He bobbed his head, the long hair falling into his face. He swept it away with a careless hand and continued talking. "I like working with kids, don't you?"

She shrugged, the adrenaline of a couple minutes ago simply melting away like it had never been, only to be replaced with her underlying fatigue. "They're alright, I guess."

"Please." He elbowed her gently, and she wondered when they'd gotten so familiar. "You loved it. And they were fast learners."

"That's true," she conceded, checking her watch to make sure that they weren't past curfew.

"Plus, that Patil kid has a thing for you."

"What?" She twisted her head to face him in disbelief. He'd said it so casually, as if completely unconcerned. Did he not care anymore? "Kunal?" Then, in a move that she recognized as vaguely uncharacteristic of her, she grinned. "He's cute, isn't he?"

He halted in disbelief, but she kept walking, holding her head high. From behind she heard, "You can't actually –"

"Those warm brown eyes," she said blithely, as he raced to catch up with her. "He's cute like" – James was sputtering in outrage – "like a little puppy that you just want to cuddle," she finished. With an innocent look on her face, she turned to James. "Why, what did you think I was going to say?"

"Sometimes, I fear that you really are a bit of a cougar," he confessed, his eyes large and round behind the lenses of his spectacles.

"Me?" She laughed as they rounded a corner. "What about _you_? Every girl in that room worshipped the ground you walked on." In her mind she saw the faces of Christie, and Elizabeth, and she was pretty sure that Kieran was a poofter, so…

He mumbled something under his breath, and she missed it. She cocked a brow at him, and he repeated himself. But she caught it this time. "Including you?" he said quietly, staring at the ground.

She swatted at him because she could, grateful for something to do with her hands that would cover up the strange blush on her cheeks. "Oy!" Then she walked away, calling over her shoulder, "Anyway, its more acceptable for a bloke to be older than his girl, isn't it?" He caught up to her (it seemed to her that she walked away from him a lot) and she changed the subject, not wanting to linger on uncomfortable thoughts. "Erm… so, why was that lot in for tutoring, anyway?" They'd been astonishingly close-mouthed about the whole affair. "I know it was a punishment, yeah?"

That easy grin of his slid onto his face and she saw that the charismatic James was back, slick as butter. "Couldn't coax it out of them, Evans?" Why was it that everything out of his mouth sounded sexual?

A bit of a huff escaped her before she could clamp her mouth shut, and he laughed throatily. "What?" She wanted to smile, so she snapped at him instead, feeling unsettled. What was wrong with her tonight? "I suppose you flirted a bit and _coaxed _it out of one of your adolescent disciples?"

All she got in response was a one-shouldered shrug, and that familiarly wicked grin. She kept walking, and he gave in after a couple of steps (he'd never been one for patience). "Christie Saunders told me."

"What did she say when you snogged this information out of her?"

James frowned, but he ignored her comment. "Whadya think fourth years could get in trouble for, anyway?" He was teasing out this information, and she didn't appreciate it. What happened to being straightforward around here?"

"Sex…drugs…rock n' roll, perhaps?" And she grinned to herself, knowing that Potter didn't get the Muggle reference.

"Something like that." He dropped his voice conspiratorially as they climbed a set of stairs, passing by a few other students. "Only if you consider liquor to be a drug, of course."

Now she looked at him. "_What_?" Sweet Merlin, they were only fourteen! Well, Fiona had somehow gotten hold of Firewhiskey at fifteen, but still! Why was there such a a difference between the ages of fourteen and fifteen anyway? She supposed that it was because the school was rather divided into three parts: the first through second years (because they were stuck on capus all the time), the third through fifth (because at third, you got permission to go to Hogsmeade), and the fifth through seventh (at fifth, you could be made a prefect, which was an indicator of some responsibility – not that she'd lived up to that – wasn't it?)

"It's true. Those fourth years in there threw a class-wide party one night, and they were unlucky enough to be caught drunk, past curfew, and misusing the classrooms. Apparently the Slytherins let them into a Potions dungeon but Slughorn came in around midnight to check on a brew. They were in _soooooo_ much trouble." He paused for dramatic effect. "And…they knocked over that brew (and a couple others) in their crazy partying."

Wow. She blinked. Her and James' own class of peers had never been so wild and _stupid._ Everyone knew that Slughorn was generally genial, unless you fucked up his potions, of course.

"Yeah, it's pretty bad." He was still talking. "They got hit with docked points, detention time…oh, and of course, the tutoring."

"I've never heard of tutoring as a punishment, though," she commented offhandedly as they climbed into the portrait hole after a couple of fifth years. The common room was busy, and she let James walk past her a bit as she stood there, soaking in the warmth and the laughter in this room. _This is what we're fighting for_, she thought. _This is worth preserving_.

He'd noticed that she'd stopped walking, and he turned back to her. "Apparently they're all failing Defense, too. I dunno, maybe Dumbledore's trying something different out."

"Mhmm…" She was only half-listening as he babbled on; having spotted her friends in the corner, sitting with Dorcas Meadowes, she was now waving at them to get their attention. Evidently, Emmeline and Isabella were totally fine (although they were now making strange faces at her behind Potter's back, presumably because she'd just walked in with him and that was a fairly rare occurrence). Lily looked up – he was still talking. He was much more interested in the fourth years and their punishments than she was. Abruptly, she said, "I'll see you later, Potter," before walking in the direction of her friends.

Before she'd gotten more than a couple meters away, however, he called out, "Evans?"

She turned around slowly. "What?" Conversations died out a little as everyone waited for him to finish. Surely, he wouldn't – her breath caught a little, and she could feel herself blushing. He wouldn't ask her to Hogsmeade right here and right now, would he? She'd told Thomas she was too busy to see him. Okay, she'd made it sound like she had a date, which she didn't, but she was tired of his missives. But not with – well, why not? No, this was absurd. (Her pulse was racing.) Just because she and James were getting along didn't mean that – oh, bugger. Here it came: he opened his mouth.

Cheekily, he said loudly, "Same time, same place?" On his left, Sirius and Peter were scowling at her. She looked away from them.

She was momentarily speechless, conscious of her friends' eyes on her. She knew (or hoped she knew) that he was talking about the tutoring sessions, since they were an ongoing thing and he needed to fill in for Remus the entire time. But to everyone else in the room…well, who cared how it sounded? Rumors were rumors, and rumors were fun…So Lily lifted her chin and replied, "Of course!" before she spun back to her friends and plopped into a chair. Part of her was amused, but some (tiny, infinitesimally small) part of her was disappointed. Now she'd have to find something to do with herself on Saturday. "Good evening," she said brightly, her eyes roving from one stunned face to the next. "How's the homework?"

Ooo

_Thursday, October 20, 1976_

_Dear Lily,_

_I really enjoyed working with you in Transfiguration yesterday. Anyway, I was just wondering if you had any plans for Saturday. If not, will you come with me to Hogsmeade? I swear you'll have fun and I like you a lot._

_Sincerely, _

_Patrick Finnegan_


	13. Reading People

**Reading People**

_Saturday, October 22, 1976_

_Everything happens for a reason._

Everything happens for a reason, and so she accepted the consequences of her actions, acknowledging that there were no such things as "wrong" decisions. There were only different ones. And Lily Evans rarely regretted her actions.

But this? This, she regretted.

This was definitely a mistake of epic proportions, she thought, sitting across from Patrick Finnegan. She plastered a polite smile onto her face as he nattered on about something or other. When he'd sent her that letter…why had she said yes?

But she knew why. She'd been surprised by his letter, but she'd had a nice time with him in Transfiguration. He was "easy on the eyes," as Fiona said, and he was pleasant and boisterously funny. And since Potter hadn't asked her to – well, never mind that. The point was, she'd needed a legitimate reason why she couldn't see Thomas today (really, she _was_ tired of his letters…couldn't a boy take a hint?), and Patrick had asked…that was why she had agreed. That was all.

But he clearly didn't know her. She had to stop herself from wrinkling her nose at the thickly and sickly perfumed air. Because, indeed, Patrick had dragged her into the one place she loathed above all –

Madame Puddifoot's.

So, here they were, squeezed into a table so small that their knees were touching, and she wondered (again) what she was doing here. It was a windy afternoon, and so the place was crowded with at least a dozen couples, most of them fellow students. So that she could ignore the odd glances that students were shooting her way (she caught the sound of her name, once or twice), she stared into her pink porcelain teacup, clutching it with both hands. There was a girl with a slick brown ponytail sitting in a shadowed corner with someone, and the girl was staring at her… Patrick was still prattling on. "…I've already sent in a couple of things to the Ministry, but what about you?"

"Hmm?" She drained her cup of the foul brown liquid supposedly known as "tea" before she looked up at his genial blue eyes. It (the tea) really was appalling; it was a liquid that was almost, but not entirely unlike tea, and hopefully Emmeline still had some of that wonderful Earl Grey laying around that her mother had sent her last month. "Oh." He was talking about the summer, then? No. Probably careers. Ouch. That was a sign that this "date" wasn't going well (according to Emmeline), if they were talking about careers (that was what all seventh years fell back on). "I'm just applying to be an Auror, I guess." What was that in her teacup? She'd been rubbish at Divination.

"Oh. That's…" He cleared his throat and leaned forward. To compensate, she pulled back, but her chair scraped against the wall after only a few centimeters. "Well." – he crinkled his brow - "that's in the Ministry, technically." He smiled, and she attempted a weak laugh. When had she thought he was funny?

Emmeline and Isabella were probably having a much better time, and _they_ were in the Hospital Wing with injuries due to yesterday's Charms class. It was to the point where she'd rather be with them.

"Huh." She flicked a disgusted glance up at the cherubs (ugly as arse, whoever thought they were a mood lifter was clearly mental) and back towards Patrick. He _did_ have a nice nose. "So." She wasn't making an effort at all; she should probably try, right? She owed him that much. "Which departments in the Ministry?"

The day had started out okay. They'd done some shopping with Fiona and her Adrian Fawcett (whom Lily didn't know very well; all she knew was that lately he had detracted from Fiona-Lily time), and Patrick had bought her a quill from Scrivenshaft's. But then Fiona and Fawcett had run off because Fiona had a letter to mail (her owl was on its sickbed), leaving her alone with Patrick. And he'd taken her here.

It wasn't that he was a terrible bloke, or that she didn't think him attractive. With his broad shoulders, thick and wavy reddish-brown hair, and those large blue eyes, he could probably snag most of the older girls. But something just hadn't _clicked_ between them, and Lily half-wondered if she was making the mistake of going out with someone a lot like Thomas…all over again. History repeats itself; do mistakes?

She tried not to roll her eyes at the frilly tablecloth, or at the saccharinely sweet sounds of a bad violinist. And the tea was atrocious. Why would people go to a teashop when the tea was so bloody awful? Granted, the majority of them weren't here for tea, but, nevertheless, she wondered anyway.

And would this day never end? She glanced at her watch and swore under her breath. It was already _four!_ They'd gotten here at two, which meant…Merlin. Fiona and Isabella would never let her live down the fact that she'd been at Puddifoot's for two hours with a bloke she didn't even like. Immediately after she'd said yes to this bloody thing, Emmeline had asked her, point-blank, if she was daft (Fiona merely pointed out that he didn't appear to be an extraordinary sort of bloke). Lily had said no and asked why, and Emmeline had proceeded to go on a rant about how she wasn't going to have a good time, and Patrick was _boring_ and a bad snogger (apparently they'd had a thing in fifth year; you couldn't go to a school so small and _not_ have some overlap) to boot, but it had been too late, since Lily had already sent the letter.

Yes, Lily thought. This was definitely one of her worst mistakes. Not as bad as the time she'd let Petunia use her to lie to her parents about Tuney's whereabouts when she snuck out to see a bloke and a concert (of course her parents had caught her; she was a terrible liar), but it came pretty close.

She didn't have anything against Madame Puddifoot's, or the idea of it, anyway. A teashop was well and good (Lily was very English; she loved tea), but one that was all covered in frothy pink lace? And cherubs? And the _music!_ In addition to all of that, which she might have been able to put up with, the tea was _awful._ It was essentially some sort of muddy brown water, and the biscuits that accompanied it were brittle and stale. And yet the place was continually packed.

Then again, around Hogwarts, there weren't many places a bloke could take a girl.

Patrick was rambling, and she suddenly realized that she'd had enough. She didn't enjoy wasting time, and that's definitely what he was doing. But what could she do? Out of pride and determination, she had insisted that Emmeline didn't need to come and check on her (and bail her out, as the four girls had often done for each other). But at this moment, she realized that her pride had made her stupid. _Bugger._

But she _could_ do something, couldn't she? A droplet of an idea trickled into her mind as she mumbled something to let Patrick know that she was (hypothetically) listening.

She'd always been good at faking sick.

As the idea formulated, she glanced out the window and watched students stroll by in pairs, and groups of three. It was a crisp afternoon, and the leaves were at the height of their color; blazes of red and gold peeked out from between the houses and shops that dotted the main street. And she was stuck _here_, in the perfumed air, when she could've spent the day outdoors…

That was it. She made a face into her empty teacup.

To his credit, he did notice. "What's wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowing. He reached out to pat her hand.

She pasted a polite smile on her face, hoping to play this out right. "It's nothing. I…I just think the tea isn't sitting well in my stomach." With a tiny grimace, she drew both hands to her cup and looked elsewhere, counting under her breath. _One, two, three, four…_

There it was. "Do you want to go back?" he asked, and he looked genuinely disappointed. She felt a flash of pity, but then it was gone. Her sanity was more important, right? "I can walk you to school, if you like."

"Oh, I hate to cut this short," she said, and she tried to arrange her face into the proper look of dismay. "We're having such a great time, after all. But…"

Lily was pleased when he protested, but she also didn't want to spend any more time with the poor sod. "It's okay, I don't mind at all." He stood, and she did the same. "C'mon, I'll take you back."

She didn't know if she could spend more time with him. As they edged their way towards the door, maneuvering around other tables with couples, she said, "I don't want to ruin your day, and you could still hang around Hogsmeade. Don't worry about me – I can make it back to the castle." Finally, freedom! Her heart jumped a bit in excitement and her pace quickened as they stepped out into the cool breeze. She hadn't realized how stuffy it had been in there.

"No, really," he insisted, and he was really just being a perfect gentleman as they walked away from the establishment. Every so often, she remembered to grimace a little and act a little feverish. "I can't just leave you here, and it's just Hogsmeade…"

Bugger. How was she going to shake him off? She glanced around in a bit of a panic, then caught sight of the Three Broomsticks, as they took a right onto High Street. The pub was sitting at the end of the road, wisps of steam rising from its chimney. Lily realized then that the thought of Butterbeer was heavenly, and she could almost _feel_ the silken warmth of the amber liquid running down her throat. Butterbeer tasted a lot better than disgusting tea.

But how to get rid of Finnegan? (She smiled at Laurel Leighton and Dorcas Meadowes as they strolled by, giggling like the teenagers they were.) He was saying something (he talked an awful lot) about the weather, and Quidditch (he seemed to be a fanatic, but she was pretty sure he wasn't on the team, not even as a reserve), when she suddenly spotted one of his friends, Caradoc Dearborn (tall, dark, and quiet), lurking in front of Honeydukes. Perfect.

"Caradoc!" Taking Finnegan by the hand, she half-dragged him over to his friend, pasting a big smile on her face. "How's it going?"

"Hullo, Lily." He nodded at her, then to the bloke standing next to her. "Patrick." Everything about him was deliberate, and delayed, as if he thought about each and every one of his actions. "How goes it?"

"Good, thanks," Lily answered. She tugged Finnegan along and slowly repositioned him so that his back was to the Honeydukes pathway. "What've you been doing?"

Caradoc shrugged, staring off into the distance. Not that he ever really looked anyone in the face. "Just got here a couple of minutes ago."

"Oh, really?" she chirped, her eyes darting around the area. "That's funny, we've been here for ages." She looked up at Patrick, eyelashes fluttering slightly. "I'm just going to run into Honeydukes – I, erm" – _Think quickly, Lily_ – "forgot to get a present for my sister, that's all." She hoped that, in the seven years that they'd kind of known each other, he hadn't learned that she hardly ever bought things for Petunia.

"Alright." He peered at her with concern. "Are you feeling better?" He hadn't let go of her hand, and she jerked it slightly out of his grip.

She shrugged and allowed herself a tiny frown that slipped easily into a grimace. "Not really, but I have to go get it – you go on ahead, it might take me awhile. My sister's really choosy."

He nodded and said something to Caradoc, who responded after a moment's pause. So she started off for the Honeydukes entrance, slowly pulling open the front door and slipping inside. The shop was busy, and the students were everywhere, tasting sweets and sighing in delight. As discreetly as she was able, she snuck into a corner full of hard candies (they'd never been popular; she didn't know why Honeydukes continued to sell them in flavors like Caramel Earwax or Pukish Plum; they seemed to be offshoots of all of the disgusting Bertie Bott's jellybeans) and cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on herself before she exited the store.

Patrick and Caradoc seemed to be having a discussion of some sort - involving a great deal of gesticulating on Patrick's part – so they didn't notice her edging her way along the path (sticking to the shadows; she was good at Disillusionments, but they weren't perfect) from Honeydukes and towards the main road. The farther away she got, the more confident she felt about the whole ordeal. She wasn't sure what she'd say to him in class tomorrow, but, by then, she could probably come up with a lie to explain her disappearance. Fiona could help; she used to abandon her dates all the time.

As she neared the Three Broomsticks, she could practically see the warmth emanating off the building, the sounds of laughter and conversation rolling towards her in waves. Food, friends, laughs…_This_ was a proper Hogsmeade weekend.

She'd just nurse a Butterbeer for the next hour or so – that was probably enough time for Patrick to realize that she'd probably gotten back to the castle on her own. Then she could head back at her own pace (she wondered what Fiona was up to).

Strands of her red hair fluttered in the brisk wind and flew into her face and mouth as she cast the countercharm to her Disillusionment and ducked into the pub. Why hadn't she pinned it up (as she normally did) this morning?

She blinked and grimaced a little when she saw the crowds that thronged the inside of the building, the firelight flickering on dim faces. Every seat at the bar was taken, and unless she wanted to cram in with the groups of students whom she didn't really know…It _was_ the afternoon, after all. She supposed she ought to have expected as much. With a faint sigh, Lily shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, dragging the fabric downward, as her gaze roved around the pub, landing on – oh.

There, in the corner, was one Sirius Black, his long black hair flipped into his face, lounging in an empty booth. His right knee was drawn up onto the seat and had one arm wrapped around it. The other was busy with a bottle of something, and he was scowling darkly at the table, as if the table had committed some inconceivably execrable crime.

Should she go over? He was the only one that seemed to have any space at his table, and all she wanted was a Butterbeer (she'd brought one home for her dad once, and he'd hated the taste and hadn't been able to figure out the formula – she wondered if it was a wizard thing). But on the other hand, she figured he probably didn't know her name, and, even if he did, he probably hated her guts.

Lily glanced out a nearby window, mulling it over. She couldn't just stand here forever, and if she went outside, Patrick might _see _her, and then she'd be fucked. She had to do something.

_Oh, to hell with it._

Straightening her spine and taking in a deep breath, she steeled herself for a rejection as she made a beeline for the lone Gryffindor boy, trying to walk calmly between the crowded tables. When she stopped in front of his booth, her coat brushing the edge of the table, it was several moments (in which she didn't breathe) before he looked up. "Can I help you?" His lip curled, and for a moment, she was startled to find herself reminded of another dark-haired, pale-skinned boy with an aristocratic air, though one admittedly less brawny and rather better in Potions…

She blinked, and the moment was gone. "Ev-everywhere else is full," she confessed. "Can I sit here until something opens up?" She bit her lip, feeling strangely anxious. She _was_ just talking to someone else her age, after all. He was just a teenage boy. And yet, she felt that odd prickly sensation that was usually reserved for conversing with a king or a queen (not that she'd ever met one, but she imagined it would go something like this, though perhaps she would've been more polite).

It was another moment before he shrugged offhandedly and moved over so that she could sit. She mumbled a "thank you" as she slid into the booth, the hem of her coat sliding over the end to dangle uselessly above the ground. Before she could even shrug out of her coat (it was thick and dark blue; a Christmas gift from her mother the year before), Rosmerta was already there, asking her what she wanted.

"Butterbeer, please." Lily smiled up at the woman, only a decade her senior. As little third years, she, Fiona, and Isabella had often come into the Three Broomsticks, awed by the fact that they were allowed in at all. It had been Rosmerta who had actually introduced Emmeline to them (sometimes Lily wondered if she was partially responsible for the rift between Emmy and Tracy).

"Be back in a minute." Rosmerta winked at her in a way that could only be described as roguish, before she bustled off, her long waves of brown hair fluttering behind her.

"So…" Lily trailed off uncertainly as she pulled off her coat and tucked it behind her.

He shrugged again, a brooding look upon his face, his right leg dangling over the rest of the seat. His thick black hair was long and shaggy, like a dog's, and he was wearing a faded blue jumper and a pair of ripped jeans. He pulled it off beautifully, a princeling in hiding.

"Erm…" She was casting around for ideas when she glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of Patrick's wavy hair as he passed by. As quick as she could, she ducked down, her hair falling into her face. With her eyeballs pressed against the dirty table, she counted under her breath. _One. Two. Three._

_Eight. Nine. Ten._

Was that enough? She lifted her head to find Sirius' inscrutable gaze upon her, his bottle half-empty. He said finally, darkly, "A bit spastic, aren't you, Evans?"

She could feel a sheepish blush spread over her cheeks like a rash. "Sorry." Through the window, she only saw other students, and she hoped that Patrick wouldn't venture into here. She felt the need to explain to Sirius, since he was still staring at her. "I'm just…avoiding someone, is all."

"Fighting with your friends?" He turned his gaze back towards the table.

"N-no." She bit her lip, feeling uneasy around him. "Bad date, is all."

"You skipped out?" He sounded interested in spite of himself, even as he slowly twirled his bottle (she wasn't sure if it was Butterbeer) on the table. The thing was, Sirius Black rather intimidated her. He was tall, for one thing, and rather popular, for another. He always knew the right thing to say at the right time, whether he was trying to charm you (in class with Professor McGonagall), encourage you (with Peter, he could be surprisingly kind), or annoy you (when Lily caught him out of bounds, and was in the mood to take points). But she didn't think he liked her, though perhaps there was a bit of grudging respect. They'd never been friends, and she'd never quite understood what she'd done to him, but there it was – his dislike.

She wasn't sure _what_ he thought of her.

"Actually," she said (and she couldn't help but grin a little), "I faked sick. It was all very complicated." She paused, then added, "I was forced to use a Disillusionment Charm."

"Oh, really?" He turned his head and raised a solitary eyebrow. "Who was the bloke?"

Rosmerta returned with Lily's drink and promptly left to see to some other customers. She popped the cap off and took a sip, reveling in the warmth and the sweetness of the taste (it was much better than that ghastly tea) before she said, "It was Finnegan."

"Patrick, yeah?"

She shrugged, and took another sip. "What were you doing?"

"Just faffing around. Woke up late." He took a swig of his drink (she supposed that it was a different brand of Butterbeer – he'd probably coaxed it out of Rosmerta) and looked out the window.

She couldn't help but ask, "And where are your comrades-in-arms?"

A frown tugged at his lips. "Moony had…things to attend to. And Prongs is helping Wormtail on his date."

"Peter asked out a girl?" she was surprised, and a little happy. Peter Pettigrew was the shortest and the youngest of the four boys, with a hint of baby fat still lingering on his cheeks. To her, he was still that little first year boy, with a childlike loyalty to his friends and an inability to be social with others. He was quiet, but he had the odd knack of saying the wrong things at the wrong time. She'd often thought that what bound James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter together was their loyalty, but where the former three were loyal out of shared secrets and a deep understanding of one another, the latter was loyal without question (perhaps merely because they were his friends).

And yet this loyalty persuaded a boy like James to waste his Saturday by helping out a friend with his own plans. She shook her head in wonderment.

"Hmm?" Sirius' head was cocked a little, that eyebrow raised once more.

She was mildly startled, and immediately apologetic. "Sorry. It's nothing." Then, realizing that they had been talking about Pettigrew, she asked, "Which one?"

"The girl?" She nodded, and he shrugged. "It was Christine Sparrow." He flipped his hair a little.

She thought of a light brown ponytail, slicked back, and yellow Quidditch robes. "The Hufflepuff?" She was pretty, and rumored to be wealthy (her parents made the Sparrow brooms). Out of Peter's league, perhaps, but he had Potter's help. "She's a…" She screwed up her eyes in concentration. "…a Chaser, right?"

He smirked a little, his eyes focused on the well-worn table. "Not one for Quidditch, hmm?"

It was her turn to shrug, though she was a little wary of his unfriendly demeanor. "I did the flying lessons in first year, but I was never any good, and I didn't have any time to learn, afterwards."

"So, you don't know how to fly," he drawled, looking at her now.

"Nope." She smiled cheerfully. Then they lapsed into silence, and she looked down to see that her fingers were still clenched tightly, nervously, around the glass bottle. She forcibly let go and put her hands in her lap, hiding them under the table.

A minute later, he said softly, "You're not what I expected."

She wasn't sure she'd heard him right (the pub was busier than she'd ever seen it), and she turned her head to look at him. "What?" He repeated himself, and she said, "What do you mean?"

A bit of a perplexed look appeared on his face; she thought that he oughtn't to purse his lips, as it didn't look very attractive. "I recently realized that I was a bad judge of character, is all."

"Oh?" Was he confiding in her? She hadn't the faintest notion what he was on about, and she searched her head to see if she could come up with something (but she was terrible at keeping up with the gossip). Sirius Black was a very mysterious person. Everyone thought they knew everything about him, and his actions (who he was dating, how he played in Quidditch, etcetera), but the truth was that nobody knew anything about his truly personal life, like what had happened last year that caused him to go live with James (permanently!) or why he didn't speak to his younger brother, even though they'd been in the same school for five years.

Sirius flipped his hair and took a sip of his drink, saying nothing.

She wondered if she was allowed to speak.

"See, you think you know a person," Sirius suddenly said, toying with his bottle once more, "But then they go and do something absolutely _stupid_, and you realize that you don't know anything at all." They probably weren't on the same subject anymore.

Lily was a little frightened of the black mood that Sirius was in, and so, completely irrationally, she said in a dry tone, "What stupid thing have _I_ done?"

He blinked, coming back to himself. "Um…well, perhaps going on a date with Finnegan?" His voice changed from speculative to that familiar sense of superiority. "Feeling a bit daft today, were you?" It seemed to her as if he was going to say something else, but had changed his mind in the last minute.

"Oy!" She dared to lightly swat his arm, smiling all the while. "In my defense, I came to my senses and ran away."

"That's true," he acknowledged, an odd smile twisting his features into something more akin to a grimace. "But you had to be an idiot to even agree in the first place." His voice got softer, and she wondered if he was talking to himself. "Maybe people are just idiots."

She thought of her sister, and her mother, and the letter that had come exactly one week before. "Maybe it's just siblings," she muttered idly, under her breath.

"_What_?" Sirius was looking at her in a bit of shock, his blue-grey eyes (closer to grey than blue, she thought) wide and round beneath his dark eyebrows.

She shrugged offhandedly, not even sure what she really meant. But she felt the need to clarify, anyway. "My sister's being a right nutter, is all. She's secretly trying to kick me out of the family." It was true; it felt underhanded and petty, and she thought of sitting rooms and furniture, remembering the disappearance from the public Muggle eye of pictures of herself. None of her friends were Muggleborn; they didn't understand what it was like to disappear from one world into another, and she wondered why she couldn't have both.

Sirius barked a short laugh. "I just left, you see."

She was struck by the oddity of this conversation. Here they were, two people who had never been friends in all their years at this school. Once, she'd even gone on a blind date with this boy, and they'd made light, meaningless conversation for a half hour before she made her excuses and left. But on a day-to-day basis, they hardly interacted. And now they were sitting in a pub together, talking about personal problems that she rarely brought up even in front of her closest friends (she suddenly felt very old, to be sitting in a pub with a drink, spilling personal secrets to the world). "You left?" she repeated, almost to herself.

He nodded, and started scowling once more. "It seemed like the best idea at the time."

It was almost like he required prompting. She gave it. "And now?"

"I'm not so sure…maybe if I hadn't left…"

She wasn't sure what persuaded her to say it, but a stray thought made its way from her brain to her lips. "If I hadn't found out about being a witch, my sister and I would still be best mates."

He countered that with, "If I hadn't been in Gryffindor, he and I would be the same."

Ah. An inkling of an idea. "Regulus?" He nodded, and she realized that perhaps they weren't so different after all. She thought of a quote, half-forgotten. "'Fate chooses your relatives, but you choose your friends.'"

"Who said that?"

"Dunno. But I guess I'm just going to have to accept it as true."

"What are you trying to say, Evans?"

Around them, the noise level of the pub rose and fell, in waves of sound that reverberated off the walls and washed over their little corner. It took her a moment to formulate what she was trying to articulate. "I mean, whether or not Petunia likes it, we're still sisters. But my true friends are Fiona, Isabella, Emmy, and Marlene." She dared to add, "Just like yours are Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew."

For the first time in this entire conversation, he stared directly into her eyes. She didn't know how to deal with this strange Sirius. "But what if your choices affect your relatives for the worse? What if you could've changed that?"

A wisp of a memory of a rumor about Regulus surfaced. She tried to grab hold of it, but it dissipated quickly, and she was left with the echo of Dorcas Meadowes' loud whisper (there was nothing Dorcas loved more than a juicy piece of gossip).

Lily sighed loudly, hearing Sirius' words. It was something she'd thought about, often. If she hadn't chosen magic, would Petunia have changed and become such an extremist in the name of perfection? Would Petunia have been _normal_ instead? Would she have, instead, laughed more, and cried less, and lied through her teeth to get what she wanted? Was it Lily's fault?

_No_, she told herself firmly. Petunia was inherently what she was. They might be sisters, but Tuney could be very petty, and cruel, and _tiresome_. Fiona was right, and it was something she should just accept. And Lily didn't know what Sirius had done or what the circumstances of his situation were (that rumor…were the Death Eaters involved?), but he seemed to need to hear her conclusions. Aloud, she said, "People are who they are, and none of us are truly victims." Her fingers drummed a rhythm on the table. "We can't change anything in the past, so we must look forward. You don't regret leaving, do you?"

She was glad that he shook his head immediately. "Living with the Potters is so much better. I didn't know that other families had _fun_ together." Pause. "Do your parents have fun?" It was such a plaintive question, and she felt compelled to answer it honestly.

This was so unlike the Sirius Black she was familiar with.

"They do alright." When she was six, they had started playing all sorts of board games together. Most games were perfect for four people, and they were a family of four, so…"My parents and sister travel a lot when I'm not home," she admitted. "They've been on all sorts of adventures, while I'm just stuck here."

A wry twist of his mouth; her words seemed to have resonated with his feelings. His brow lightened, and the scowl was brushed away (temporarily, at least). "This isn't an adventure?"

She laughed, drawing the attention of the people sitting in the booth behind her. "Hogwarts is well and good, but I'm talking about far off places and absurd magics. Don't you want to see the world?"

He suddenly grinned, and she saw that he contained within himself the intensity of the sun and the depths of the earth. "It would be easier, if you knew how to fly. The view's better, too."

"Heights and I don't cooperate very well," she admitted. "Though…" She thought of soaring above the Eiffel Tower, or the pyramids of Egypt, or dipping across the Great Wall of China, and her heart leapt. "I guess it would be nice." She didn't know why she'd never learned how to properly fly. Sure, there was Apparating, but it wasn't the same; it was simply disappearing from one place and reappearing in another, feet faced firmly on the ground. (Petunia had dreamed of flying and talked about it constantly when Lily was five and she was eight; when the letter came, Petunia never spoke about it again.)

"Ha!" She was startled to find one of Sirius' long, elegant fingers directly in her face, a thin smile (not mocking or superior, she noted, which was always a good sign) on his lips. "You _do_ want to learn!"

"I s'pose." She took another sip of her drink. "It's too late, though. I mean, I've got so much else to do, and – "

"Aurors have to know how to fly," Sirius said in an oddly reasonable tone. (In the back of her mind, she realized that they had completely switched subjects.)

"How did you know I – oh, just forget it." She blew a puff of air out of her mouth, hating the fact that everybody knew everything. Except about Sirius himself. "Isn't there basic training at the beginning?"

"Yeah, but it helps if you already know how. It's one less thing to learn next year."

"I s'pose," she repeated, and she wondered where his friends were, and where Fiona was. Perhaps she should pick up some candy from Honeydukes after all, for Emmy and Isabella.

They were silent again, and she listened to the sounds of the other students and customers around her. It always amazed her that there was only one wizarding village in all of Britain, and the fact that she was sitting in it, right this very minute…this was the sort of thing her parents would never understand. She was still thinking about these things when Sirius suddenly said, "I could teach you."

She waited a beat before saying, "What?" Their voices carried under the low roar of the crowd, and she realized that to everyone else in the pub, it looked like Lily was on a date with Sirius. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a girl (fourth year?) that had definitely been in Puddifoot's earlier, and was currently gesticulating towards Lily and talking with her friends in hushed undertones. Merlin, there would be rumors flying about tomorrow (she wondered what Potter would think).

"How to fly," he said, looking at his drink, a slight smile just barely visible. "It's not so hard, and – "

She regretted her impulsive mouth the moment she started talking. "_Why_?" It came out sounding harsh, and ungrateful, and he recoiled slightly. Swallowing hard, she immediately followed it up with, "I mean, why would you want to?"

He shrugged. "I'm rather bored, and, well, call it my Gryffindor good deed of the year." She wasn't sure, but under his breath, he might have muttered, "The things I do for Prongs."

"B-but –" she sputtered, feeling at a loss for words.

"Take it or leave it," he said, looking perfectly wicked.

She sighed, knowing that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to befriend Sirius Black, since he was doing something oddly nice for her. But she didn't understand his motives, and she wished she did.

She thought she was good at reading people, but he was completely inscrutable, even when sitting only centimeters away from her.

Very well; she supposed that getting to know Sirius better would be an interesting way to liven up her days. "Sounds good, Black. If it helps me get a leg up for this Auror business – although, really, who knows if any of us will get in – then I suppose we'll have to do this. When?"

He smiled a deeply secretive smile. "We'll see."

She had to content herself with that, and she wondered what had just happened between the two of them. Both of them took sips of their drinks, and Lily realized that she might have to order another, since she was running low. A glance towards the bar told her that she'd been sitting here (with Black) for over an hour, which was more time than she'd _ever_ spent with him alone.

Her thoughts went back to Peter, and his date, and then to one of Sirius' odd statements. "So…you've changed your opinion of me?" (She was so tactless, and perhaps a bit rude.)

"Eh?"

"Earlier. You said that I'm not what you expected." She dared to take on a teasing tone. "C'mon, surely you're not completely senile just yet. Or did you forget?"

"Oh." He shrugged, and waved over Rosmerta. "Hey, do you want another one?" He glanced at the clock, no doubt wondering where his friends had got to. But he didn't seem to be particularly concerned about them…

"Er, sure, thanks." Through the smudged window, she could see the beginning tendrils of sunset, creeping through the sky as students hurried to and fro on the streets. The pub wasn't so full now, and she wondered if people were already making their way back to the castle.

Rosmerta left with their order and Sirius settled into his seat again, eyeing her carefully. "I mean, you're not as much of a priss as I thought."

While he'd been talking, she'd been draining the last bits of her Butterbeer. So, when he said that, she was in the midst of swallowing, and she promptly started to choke slightly. He was alarmed, and he drew his wand (she wasn't quite sure what he could do, but at least he made an effort). Luckily, though, the choking quickly ceased, and when she was sure that she could breathe again, she said, "You thought I was a priss?"

"Well, yeah." He offered her an unconcerned shrug. "Everyone does. Or did, anyway."

"How could you _possibly_ think that?"

"You were always docking me points for stupid things, and you have outrageously high marks – "

"I got an E on my Defense O.W.L!"

"- And you never said yes when Prongs asked you out, even though every other girl hates your guts, and –"

"Erm…_what_?" She blinked, feeling completely unsettled by his view of her. She did _not_ have great marks, and she only docked him points because he was always doing stupid shite, and as for James…when had he ever seriously asked her out? And since when did Sirius Black, one of the most popular boys in the school, go around having opinions of her? "What does _James_ have to do with any of it?" Rosmerta came back with their second round of drinks and swiftly deposited them onto the table before bustling off again.

He shrugged again (he was always doing that). "But you know, now we're all just jolly chums this year, aren't we? And you're actually quite an odd bird, Lily Evans. Not much of a priss after all."

She eyed him over the top of her new drink (perhaps she was addicted to Butterbeer), feeling as if she'd somehow received a compliment. "Why haven't we been friends?" she asked suddenly, feeling a pressing need to get an answer to the question. They seemed to be in similar family situations, and they were in the same House, and the same year, and why weren't they friends? "Is it because you 'thought I was a priss?'"

"I guess so." He glanced at her, and looked away, his voice dropping slightly. "But I always thought that you thought very little of me."

This, too, was unexpected. "Me?" she gasped. "What about _you_?" This was a complete reversal of the way she saw things.

"What?"

"Well – " she struggled to find words, and failed.

He continued talking. "I mean, I don't really know why we're not friends. We could be, you know." He grinned suddenly, and she thought that he might be laughing at some sort of inside joke. "Prongs and Moony seem to like you well enough."

She _was_, indeed, friends with James and Remus, even if their friendships were rather spontaneous and questionable.

"You said that we choose our friends, right?" he said, and she nodded dumbly. "Maybe we should start over."

This all felt rather surreal, and she briefly wondered if he was drunk. It was entirely possible; his first drink hadn't been Butterbeer, and he seemed unusually odd and free with his speech. But she found that, strangely enough, despite the fact that he'd called her a priss and listed odd faults and reasons for it, she rather liked this marginally more vulnerable Sirius Black, this boy with loyal friends and a cold family.

Maybe this was because, for the first time in seven years, she _identified_ with him.

Making up her mind, she said, "Okay."

"Huh?"

She extended her hand, giggling a little. "Let's be friends, Sirius Black. We ought to shake on it."

With the gravest air (he was quite possible a little tipsy), he clumsily reached out and shook her hand, saying solemnly, "So mote it be."

Lily pulled away and, taking another sip of her drink, asked, "So, do friends teach friends how to fly?" Even though she had a crippling fear of heights, the thought of flying excited (the things she could see!) and saddened (this was Petunia's dream, not hers, but perhaps, one day, she could take her sister for a spin) her, and Sirius was almost as good a flyer as James (according to gossip), anyway.

"But of course!" He opened his mouth to say something else, but, just then, they both heard –

"Oy!" She looked up from her Butterbeer to see James, Remus, and Peter, standing in front of the table, coats unbuttoned, their jumpers peeking out. Merlin, they were quiet. "Lily?" James was staring at her, perplexed. "Weren't you just – "

She cut him off, smiling kindly at Peter. "How was your date?" Behind him, Remus was smiling good-naturedly. It seemed to be a good day for him; his pale cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were bright and limpid.

Peter beamed, his boyishly round cheeks turning bright pink. "It was bloody _fantastic_."

"I was a great help," boasted James. His hair was wind-tousled, his glasses slightly off-kilter. He looked adorable.

Sirius spoke up, his eyes very bright. "Where did you go?"

"She wanted to go to Puddifoot's, actually." Peter slid into the booth, on Sirius' other side. Sirius removed his knee from the seat and slid it under the table. "We were there for _ages_." He looked up at James (who was still staring at Lily with some perplexity). "I'm so sorry, Prongs," he said, looking decidedly unapologetic. "I didn't know that she liked tea so much."

"Wait, you went to _Puddifoot's_?" To her tired, muddled brain, the pieces slowly fit together. James' expression, the fact that Peter had been there for hours…

Oh. Fuck.

"Yeah. Oh, how was your date, Lily?" Peter's question was innocent; naïve, and at that moment, she wanted more than anything to hex him mute (she wasn't sure, but she thought Remus might have briefly narrowed his eyes at the other boy).

Stammering (and avoiding James' gaze, though she hadn't the faintest idea why), she said, "It…went. Alright. I s'pose."

Sirius piped up, oh-so-conveniently. "She skived off!"

"Really?" James perked up considerably, and she looked up in time to see him grin widely. Merlin, that boy had odd mood swings. "It was that bad? You were there for ages and – " he checked himself, falling silent.

James had been there? He'd watched and… she blushed a little, staring down at her drink. What was going on with her today? She wondered if she'd just dreamed it all up, and pinched her arm just to be sure.

Nope. This was all definitely happening.

Maybe the best way out of this whole awkward mess was to leave, to run away. She was good at that. With a nod and a slight smile to Sirius, she said loudly, "Well, I'd better be off. Don't want to intrude, and all that." She slipped a Sickle out of her pocket and handed it to Sirius, who waved it off stubbornly, saying something about gentlemen buying drinks for ladies. But she left the coin on the table anyway, because she hated being considered a free-loader. "I'll see you all – "

James interrupted. "You're not intruding at all!" The other three boys chimed in, and she suddenly laughed to think that the other students in the pub would think her very odd indeed, having a drink with the four most popular boys in their year, when she was practically a nobody. But this would be infinitely more agreeable than that date with Patrick, and now that she and Sirius were officially mates… While she was doing all of this thinking, James had slid into the booth beside her, while Remus had gotten in on the other side. "Oy, Rosie, could we get some drinks around here!" James bellowed cheerfully, and Lily was surprised to notice that his arm was slung over her shoulder, like he would've done to any of his mates.

She didn't object.

Then Lily suddenly smiled, feeling warm and happy, surrounded by these boys who could liven up any room, no matter the circumstances of the world around them (when the Marauders were all together, it was easy to forget that there was practically a war on).

_This_ was a proper Hogsmeade outing.

ooo

_Sunday, October 23, 1977_

_Lily dear,_

_Sorry I've been so lazy; I'm terrible at keeping in touch! But you already know that. Anyway, a proper invite is on the way, but I just wanted to let you know that we've set a date for our (Frank and me) wedding, and I'd love it so bloody much if you could be a bridesmaid. I know, we've been engaged forever, but we're both out of Auror training now and we're going to be proper working stiffs, out in this war and everything. We can be assigned a post together if we're married, so…it seemed like a good time to tie the knot._

_Anyway, owl me back, I hope you're doing well. I'll write to you soon!_

_Love,_

_Alice_

ooo

A/N: Just a couple more chapters - drop me a line?


	14. Rumors

**Rumors**

_Monday, October 24, 1977_

"I've heard a rumor," Marlene McKinnon announced. Lily didn't look up from the book in her lap; out of the corner of her eye she saw the other girl throw herself into an armchair next to Lily's own. She'd learned over time that, with barely a moment's pause, Marlene would soon launch into her next statement.

She was right. After a handful of seconds, the other girl added, "Concerning you."

That made Lily look up, surprised at the notion. "Really?" To her knowledge, there had hardly ever been any rumors about her (unless she started absurd ones herself, of course).

Marlene nodded, arching one elegant eyebrow. Her hair was loose around her face today, and it floated, thin and wispy, like a fuzzy halo of sunlight. "Is it true?"

Lily threw her a dumb look, wondering why Marlene had come to find her. She was in her favorite corner of the Hogwarts library, surrounded by cushy leather armchairs and a stack of interesting books. _And_ it was a Monday, and she liked to spend her Monday free blocks in here. She enjoyed the silence, and enjoyed being on her own. Besides, there seemed to be no end to the silly squabbles among her friends lately, and she loved them dearly, but, sometimes, it was all a bit _tiresome_.

"Well?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the redhead replied, closing up her book with a faint sigh of regret. When Marlene wanted something, she'd go after it tenaciously.

"Really, Lily, really?" Marlene leaned back and laughed, her laugh surprisingly deep for such a fine-boned girl. "You mean to tell me that you're _not_ cheating on a certain James Potter with one Sirius Black?"

Lily's book tumbled out of her lap as she jolted a little in surprise. She bent over to pick it up, hiding her face as she struggled to make sense of what Marlene had said. Why would anyone ever – what was anyone thinking – what the hell was going on? She'd never – _James?_ Or _Sirius?_ Or _both?_

Maybe she was hallucinating. Or dreaming. Maybe this was just one big nightmare.

"Lily?" Marlene said loudly, earning herself a glare from the librarian. "All right there?"

She sat back up, nodding and patting her book absent-mindedly as she tried to come up with what to say. Finally, the best she could come up with was, "Where did you hear this?"

The blonde shrugged, flicking a look at the librarian. They were the only ones here anyway, so why did it matter? "It's everywhere."

"Are you _serious?_" Lily yelped, keeping her voice down out of habit. Rumors? About _her_? For Merlin's sake, she tried to stay out of the limelight as much as possible, and such a rumor was completely unfounded… "_Why_?" The thought of doing _anything_ with _either_ of them (or both) made her shudder. (Well, Sirius made her shudder. She'd seen how terrible it was to be obsessed with him when Emmeline had stalked him incessantly in their fourth year. But James…well, even if James didn't make her shudder quite so terribly, she was still definitely _not_ happy about this news. Right?)

"What do you mean?" Marlene drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, her rhythm quick and intense. Just like her, really. A wicked smile appeared on her face, and Lily just _knew_ that wasn't a good sign.

"You don't even pay attention to rumors!" Lily said inanely. In all the years she'd known the other girl, she'd never known her to listen to what _anybody_ else had to say. Marlene was always unconventional, and other students had never quite understood her.

Marlene shrugged. "Someone asked me about it. Where've you been all morning? All of your mates are being hounded."

Lily winced, feeling bad for her friends. What's worse, Fiona was probably elaborating like mad (she loved to come up with silly rumors).

"So. I take it it's not true, then." Marly picked up Lily's book and examined it thoughtfully.

"Of course not! How could you even _think_ –"

"Well, you've been awfully chummy with them lately," she pointed out, and Lily felt like perhaps Marlene was subtly accusing her of _not_ spending enough time with her own friends. It was true – she couldn't remember the last time all of the Gryffindor girls (sometimes, Lily dragged Marlene over for the hell of it) had gotten together for a proper chat and a couple of drinks. "And I guess you were spotted at Hogsmeade, hmm?" She swung both legs over one of the chair's armrests, and Lily was suddenly confronted with a lovely view of Marly's scuffed blue trainers, dangling above her lap. The librarian wasn't going to be happy about this treatment of her chairs.

"Wha-?" Lily suddenly remembered her Saturday afternoon jaunt. Finnegan…Black…the whole works.

_Fuck._

She hadn't even considered the implications of having a drink with the Marauders in the Three Broomsticks. Then, it had been all about the short-term, about finding somewhere to hide from a terrible date. "Oops."

"That's what you have to say?" Marlene chuckled.

Lily buried her face in her hands. "It was just.a Butterbeer, that's all!" Now people probably thought she was a slag, didn't they? And what did Patrick even think?

"Oh?" Marlene raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Lily checked her watch, feeling irritated (and trapped) by the line of questioning. This wasn't really something that she wanted to deal with at the moment. "I gotta go, or I'll be late for Charms."

The other girl swung around and stood, grabbing her bag in one slick motion. "I guess I've got to get going too." She waited for Lily to shelve her books and gather her things before they walked out of the library together, ducking under the librarian's baleful glare. As they parted ways in the corridor, Marlene said with one last smirk, "Watch out for the rumors, Evans."

ooo

When Lily skidded into Flitwick's classroom, she was instantly grateful for Marlene's warning. As she hurried to the back of the room, slipping into the seat that Fiona had saved for her, she thought wryly that she'd have to be completely daft not to notice the suspicious looks that the other students were shooting her. Sirius Black even had the nerve to wink saucily at her (well, they _were_ mates now, right?)! Yes, if it weren't for Marlene, Lily wouldn't have had the faintest idea what was going on.

_Not now_, she mouthed to Fiona as the other girl opened her mouth to say something (Lily definitely had an inkling as to the topic of discussion). Then, studiously ignoring the looks that were coming her way, she busied herself with the task of getting out parchment, her ink bottle, and a quill (sometimes, she wished fervently that Muggle notebooks didn't disintegrate upon contact with the Hogwarts air; hadn't wizards ever thought about bound pages?). It wasn't a very difficult task, mind, but Lily did her best to take as long as possible. When she'd straightened her parchment as many times as she could, and dipped her quill into the ink a dozen times, she took a deep breath in and expelled it slowly, raising her head to watch Flitwick.

But it was impossible to concentrate on the classwork at hand. Every couple of minutes, someone would crane their neck to look at her and she'd have to resist the urge to glare daggers back. It would probably corroborate their fabricated stories. It wasn't fair; Charms was the biggest class for any seventh year, since it was a requisite for most professions. Consequently, most of her Gryffindor and Hufflepuff classmates were here, and they all seemed to have heard the same thing.

She didn't really know why she hated being in the spotlight so much. Fiona craved it; she wanted to be famous and happily married, while Emmeline spent all of her time chasing after moneyed blokes, and Isabella was convinced that she'd have an arranged marriage and spend her days as a diplomat's wife, being in the society pages all the time. In short, everyone around her (Marlene included, really) was out to _stand out_, while Lily just wanted to blend in.

Sure, she started the occasional rumor now and then (with the help of a friend or two), but they were usually harmless. And she hadn't really cared about what anybody thought about her friendship with Sev – no, Severus – but that had been a different story. _This _rumor was damaging, and she'd rather not have people think her a slag.

Not that she was actually a slag, of course. She doodled something on her parchment so that Flitwick would think she was taking notes. It didn't really matter, though; through years of experience, the professors generally watched the Marauders for the duration of the class period, _sure_ that they were up to something. Consequently, Lily had always squeaked by on the days that she didn't feel like doing work.

An elaborate tree doodle, full of curlicues and whorls, took shape beneath her quill as she continued to doodle, having completely given up on being productive (she was two chapters ahead of the class, anyway). As she focused on shaping the leaves just so, she dimly became aware that the usual squeak of her dear professor's voice had vanished; she looked up to find that everyone was staring down at their desks and fiddling with their hands. She knew that look, the one in everyone's eyes: Flitwick had asked a question, and no one had an answer.

Well, maybe if everyone hadn't been so busy watching her, and James, and Sirius (she was marginally amused by the fact that James and Sirius were probably mystifying everyone with their continuation of messing around, like they weren't aware that one boy's supposed girlfriend had supposedly shagged the other), they would've known what Flitwick had asked.

She wondered what the question had been.

As if in answer to her inner dialogue, Flitwick repeated himself, pacing back and forth across the dais in agitation. "Who can tell me about what will happen if I counter a Confounding Charm with an Astuteness Spell? Anyone?"

Still, no one answered. Lily went back to her drawing, starting in on the roots as she felt the silence grow more and more oppressive. She just _knew_ that, although everyone was staring in odd directions, hoping that they wouldn't be called upon, they were _still_ casting looks at her. The silence got thicker, and heavier, and finally Lily couldn't stand it anymore. Her hand shot up.

It was the first time in a long while (Lily asked questions when a) she had some esoteric question that wasn't mentioned in the textbook that she genuinely wanted an answer to and b) when nobody else had the answer. This year, her classmates had been on the ball, and she hadn't spent long enough with her textbook to come up with any unanswerable questions). So, it was with a slight hint of surprise that Flitwick stopped pacing and called on her, just as she finished the roots and began to shade in the bark of the tree trunk.

With a brief glance in Flitwick's direction (she noted the looks her dear classmates were _still_ giving her) and then back down at her parchment, Lily said quickly, "An Astuteness Spell is the antithetical spell to a Confounding Charm, and when you combine the thesis and the antithesis, they cancel each other out perfectly. However, if one spell caster is significantly more powerful than the other, then the force of their spell could potentially knock the other caster unconscious." She had doodled as she talked, and when she finally closed her mouth, she looked down and was pleased to see that the birds she had drawn were elegant swoops and lines that complemented her tree perfectly.

Flitwick blinked into the stupefied silence, taking a moment's pause before saying, "Thank you, Miss Evans. Ten points to Gryffindor." He resumed pacing and lecturing, the chalk kept scribbling on the board, and the student body let out a collective sigh, glad that none of them had been called out on their inattention.

Lily went back to her drawing, her elbow angled so that Michelle Lockwood wouldn't be able to see what she was doing (the silly Hufflepuff chit had been leaning over surreptitiously, probably hoping to see _LE + JP_ + _SB_ scrawled all over the place). She was determined _not_ to give the others the satisfaction of seeing that all of their whispering and pointed looks had an effect on her.

Something bumped up against her elbow; with a careful look at Flitwick, Lily put down her quill and pulled the scrap of parchment closer to her, slanting it towards her so that she could read it. In Fiona's neat scrawl: _What the hell happened in Hogsmeade?_

Actually, seeing as the class was almost over, Lily was surprised Fee hadn't said anything sooner. She scribbled back, _Just a guess – the real story is much more boring than what you've heard. Will explain at lunch._ After another glance at the front of the room, she slid the parchment back, and resumed her doodle. It was quite elaborate now, she thought with satisfaction. Possibly more elaborate than anything she'd done yet.

Beside her, Michelle was busy answering Flitwick's latest barrage of questions, saving anyone else from the trouble. As Lily finished the doodle, she sat back and frowned, regarding it carefully. _Something was missing._

She sat, wondering about this, and it wasn't until Fiona was tugging on her arm (a pretty clear signal that class was over) that Lily realized what it was. _Of course._

"Lily! C'mon, I'm _starving_!"

"Just a minute." Lily drew her wand and tapped it against the parchment, muttering a charm under her breath. They _were_ in the Charms classroom, after all. Then, allowing herself a small smile of delight, she watched as everything came alive on the parchment, the leaves rustling in the wind, the birds fluttering around the treetop. It was all rather fetching, she thought.

"Wow. You were definitely paying attention today," Fiona said with a smile.

Lily shrugged and rolled it up, putting it into her bag beside her actual notes. "Didn't feel like it, y'know?"

The other girl nodded as the two of them left the classroom, joining the slow trickle of students that were headed to the Great Hall, desperate for food and a break from classes. As someone roughly pushed past her, Lily bit back a cry and reached up to touch her shoulder, spinning around to find that the culprit was Severus. She had to struggle as a wave of emotion that she thought she'd suppressed for good washed over her. This was the first contact she'd had for _weeks_ with him and, well, clearly _he_ believed whatever trash people were saying about her – if anything, it would simply corroborate his earlier beliefs. And it wasn't like she could just go running after him with an explanation.

"Lily?" Fiona was staring at her with some concern.

It was another moment before Lily nodded, pushing away those unwanted feelings. "I'm fine. Let's just get to lunch."

The two girls kept walking, sticking to the side of the hallway. It was another few minutes before Fiona said in a forcibly casual voice, "So. Hogsmeade."

"Mhmm." Lily wasn't surprised by the line of questioning. She kept her eyes trained on what was in front of her. What could she say, really?

"Aren't you going to tell me? I mean, I know that Patrick was, in the end, ordinary, but how did Potter and Black get involved?" She narrowed her bright blue eyes. "Did Potter crash your date or something? And _why_ has it been two whole days but you haven't said anything, hmm?"

"That's lots of questions." Lily bit her lip, wondering how best to proceed. "Well, for starters, Potter did _not_ crash my date. Actually, I ditched it." Was it her imagination, or were people staring at her?

Fiona's eyes widened. "He was that boring, huh?"

"Yeah. But then I stopped in the Three Broomsticks and had a drink with the Marauders. That's it, I swear." No, people were definitely staring.

"Aw, c'mon!" The blonde threw up her hands in the air, giving Lily an exasperated glance. "Why is the truth always less interesting than the rumor?"

"I dunno. Why do you listen to rumors?" When they got to the Great Hall, Lily paused before going in, her throat going dry and her heartbeat speeding up. "You know what, I don't think I can do this."

"Hmm?" Fiona frowned, adjusting her bag with one free hand. "Lily, it's just rumors. Nobody's really - "

But Lily was backing away now, and shaking her head, not really caring if more people were looking at her oddly. She knew that they were just rumors, just lies and stares and whispers. But that didn't mean that she could handle being the center of attention. And how would she face Patrick, who she hadn't seen all morning? Or _James?_ "I'll just pop by the kitchens or something, don't worry about it." She had an hour to spare before her next class, anyway.

"Want me to come?"

"No, it's okay." Lily hoped her smile was more confident than she felt. "See you in Potions?"

Her best friend nodded, but she didn't look happy about it. Lily offered up another smile before walking quickly away in the other direction, avoiding the stares of others.

ooo

"Thanks, all of you." She smiled gratefully as the house elves brought her a sandwich and a cup of tea, seating her at a small, wooden table on the edge of the kitchen, where she wouldn't be in anyone's way. As a Muggleborn, she'd never really gotten used to the idea of house-elves, which seemed too much like slavery to her. But they'd assured her that they were perfectly happy, and, at any rate, they made great food (she wished her mother was half the cook, honestly). As she bit into her sandwich, she heard a familiar voice behind her. "You know, I always _did_ peg you for a chicken type of person. Myself, I always preferred pork."

Of course it was him. It was _always_ him. She sighed as James came into her view and slid onto the bench across from her. Oddly enough, though, she didn't feel nervous. Talking with James always seemed rather natural. "Here to eat with Hogwarts' resident slag?"

He raised an eyebrow at her tone, saying mildly, "I didn't know you were a slag."

"Oh, really?" She fell silent as a house-elf approached with a plate of food for him.

After a nod of thanks at the elf, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Who thinks you're a slag, anyway?" He took a bite of his sandwich. "I'll hex 'em, if you like," he offered, and the offer was so genuine and earnest that she just had to burst into laughter.

"You'd have to go after the whole school, I think." She took a sip of her tea, then leaned forward and peered at him. "You mean, you really don't know?"

"Know what?" He shook his head, looking a little concerned. "I've been a little, well, pre-occupied this morning, but now that I think of it, Padfoot was acting a bit odd… What happened?"

She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly, wondering what to say. Well, what Marlene had said was the simplest, wasn't it? "Apparently, you and I are dating" – he reddened; she wondered why he was flushed – "and I've cheated on you with Sirius."

He appeared to be stunned for a moment before a wicked smile appeared on his lips. "Why wasn't I informed? You didn't happen to shag my best mate, did you?"

His smile was naturally infectious – she'd always had to fight back a returning grin, but, this time, she let it happen. "All of Hogwarts seems to think so. Must've happened Saturday night, I guess."

He was quick on the uptake, she had to give him that. "Sharing a Butterbeer _must_ mean a quick shag later." He scrutinized her, and she suddenly felt a little self-conscious about the way she was eating her sandwich (she started taking smaller bites). "But why do they think _we're_ dating, again? Not that, you know, I mind or anything."

She blushed. "No idea, really. Well, I suspect those kids we're tutoring might have said something and oh, shit!" James didn't bat an eye. "We have to tutor tonight, don't we?" He nodded, and she slouched in her seat. "They're just going to ask questions and be a bother and it's going to be terrible…"

James took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "You know, things like this usually blow over in a couple of days." He had a funny look in his eyes; she couldn't place it. "I wouldn't worry too much about it, honestly."

"But even if no one talks about it, they'll still think it's true," she pointed out, her palms sweating from the idea of it.

"Would dating me be so bad?" There was a tease of a smile playing around his lips, but she got an oddly fluttery feeling in her stomach from the way he was regarding her.

"Not at all, but the idea of shagging Sirius?" she quipped without even thinking, then instantly regretted it. She felt like she was walking on ice with James, and she wasn't even really sure why. She plowed ahead anyway. "I mean, we've only just officially become mates, you know." Lily ducked her head down and took another bite of her half-eaten sandwich, avoiding his gaze.

"That's right, he mentioned that." And just like that, everything was back to normal, and she felt like she could breathe easier. Well, as normal as James-Lily interaction could be, at any rate. The way this year was going, she felt like James had become more than just a distant acquaintance (with a fifth year crush that was also far away in their past), but she hardly knew where they stood sometimes.

"He thought I'd never liked him," she remarked, watching James for his reaction. It didn't seem like news to him; she supposed that Sirius must've been telling the truth, then. She'd thought so, but it never hurt to make sure. "I always thought that it was the other way around."

He fiddled with his napkin. "Sirius is…complicated. And the way he deals with the people around us…he can get kind of protective." As she opened her mouth, he said quickly, defensively, "It's not an excuse or anything, but it's just the way he is."

"Oh." Lily didn't quite understand what exactly James was saying, but she thought he might've been apologizing. Weird. "You guys are pretty close, though."

A brief smile flickered across his face. "I guess so."

Speaking of which… "Why are you down here, anyway? Where's your motley crew?"

He shrugged. "Didn't feel like dealing with people today, y'know?"

"Mhmm." Lily nodded, understanding him perfectly. "I mean, I _am_ here too."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "We're not exactly model students, huh, hiding out in the kitchens and all."

"Yeah, it's not very brave of us." She finished up her sandwich and wiped her mouth, looking at her empty plate with satisfaction.

After a couple of minutes of quiet, James mumbled around a mouthful of his sandwich, "I'm going to miss this cooking when we leave."

She looked at him in surprise. "Already thinking about the summer? It's only just October!"

"So?" He drained his glass. "This whole year is spent preparing for N.E.W.T.S, which aren't until the end of the year. And then there's the applications for the summer…" He sighed, looking uncharacteristically old. "It just feels like it's hard to live in the moment when everything is about the future, y'know?"

She laughed bitterly, thinking of the _Prophet_ headlines that morning. From an incident concerning an innocent Muggle family in Surrey, to the disappearance of two prominent Muggleborn Healers… she wondered if it would ever end. "What future, honestly?"

A house-elf appeared at their side to whisk away the plates and glasses, asking them if they needed anything else. James asked for a brownie, and Lily, in a fit of weakness, did the same. When they were alone again, James raised an eyebrow at her. "Of course there's a future."

"I mean, what with Voldemort, and everything…it all just seems so hopeless." She looked down at the table, feeling silly for fretting about a rumor that was, at the end of the day, completely untrue. There was a war on (_not official, not yet_) and she needed to get a grip on herself.

"Lily, there's _always_ a future." His eyes were bright behind the lenses of his glasses. "We're going to _win_ this," he said with such conviction, she almost believed him.

The house-elf came back, two brownies in hand, and Lily thanked her effusively. "You can't possibly know that," she replied as she slid off the bench and stood. "And we should probably get to class." She took a bite of her brownie and practically melted on the spot; the texture, the taste, that warm fuzzy feeling she felt in her stomach…it was like edible heaven for her.

"Of course I can." He got up and followed her out, falling into step as they made their way through the narrow passage. "Logically, there's simply not enough purebloods out there to sustain the kind of world Voldemort wants to create. And so many Muggleborns and Halfbloods are in the Auror Corps…it'll be a hard fight, but we'll finish them sooner or later. After all, we _are_ the good guys." He gave her a winning smile as they burst in the regular corridor.

She couldn't help but smile back. It was just so very James, to trust in a childhood adage. "And, of course, the good guys always win."

ooo

A/N: Right. Sorry for the delay. College, and all that. Erm…I wasn't satisfied with this chapter, to be honest. Drop me a line, let me know what you think?


	15. Flying Lessons and Changelings

**Flying Lessons and Changelings**

_Sunday, October 30, 1977_

She stared at the stick on the ground, nudging it with the tip of her shoe. The stick was rather knobbly, and slightly crooked in the middle, and in no way did it look aerodynamic. She was supposed to trust her life to a _stick_? "Maybe this isn't such a great idea." Certainly, her friends thought she was absolutely bonkers.

"Course it is." She didn't need to look up in order to know that Sirius was smirking. "It's one of mine, innit?" Now that they were friends, he was like a completely different person: warm, funny, and, on occasion, completely snarky.

Lily gulped, feeling like there was something stuck in her throat. "Let's do this, like, a week from now, maybe? How does that sound?" Her voice trailed off into something resembling a squeak, and she crossed her arms defensively, staring at a point beyond his left shoulder.

"We're right here, Evans. Might as well get it over with. Besides, I already went through all the basic stuff with you." Standing beside her, he extended his hand over his own broom. His, she noted, looked significantly nicer and more polished than hers, which seemed to have weathered a few storms. She didn't even know where hers had come from – he had simply shown up with two brooms, muttering about a spare. Certainly, her broom seemed to be better quality than one of the rickety school brooms, though she was hardly the best judge of such things. "This is easy."

"How easy?" she countered, moving to copy his actions. Remembering everything he'd said about braking and accelerating was difficult; there was a lot more to flying than she'd thought. Or, remembered, really, since everything Madame Hooch had said to her when she was a tiny first-year had pretty much gone in on ear and out the other. A yawn escaped her – why had she agreed to a 9 AM flying lesson on a bloody Sunday morning?

"Just watch," he said, and she did. His forehead slightly creased, he frowned down at his broom and snapped, "_Up!_" The broom jumped into his hand and he wrapped his fingers around it easily. That one word, Lily thought, contained more aristocratic arrogance than she could ever produce in an entire speech. She wondered where he'd learned to do it. "Now, your turn."

"This isn't going to work," she said, but she stared at her broom anyway, feeling foolish. Softly, she whispered, "Up." The stick didn't respond, of course, and she said, "See?"

"Oh, man up, Evans." He rolled his eyes. "You have to actually mean it, you know."

"I do mean it!" She peered down at the broom, nudging it again. "It just…I'm talking to an inanimate object!"

"Imagine…" Sirius let out a long breath, his bangs blowing off his face. "Imagine that your broom is a house-elf- I mean, a dog."

"A dog," she repeated, ignoring the house-elf comment.

He nodded, eyes glinting. "And…you have to be stern with your dog, or else he won't listen. He's not a very obedient dog. So, try again."

She looked at the broom, at Sirius, and then back again. "Woof woof," she muttered, sticking her hand out again. _Okay, let's do this right_, she thought, concentrating. She thought of a dog, and of being irritated with Sirius' perkiness, and how she just really wanted to go back to bed. "Up!" she snapped. The broom shot straight up with an incredible amount of force, knocking her hand away. She yelped, cradling her right hand with her left, watching as the broom quivered, two feet in the air.

She'd forgotten how strange the magical world could be.

"Wow," Sirius remarked after a minute. "I guess anger works just as well as confidence."

Lily said nothing, feeling humiliated.

"So…" Sirius said. "Did you know that…in order to fly…you have to get _on_ the broom?" His voice trailed off idly.

She swatted him, restraining a laugh. "I'm working up to it."

With a snort of doubt, he straddled his broom and tugged on his Quidditch gloves. "I know it's a Sunday, but we haven't _really_ got all day. Mount up."

"Big plans later?" Lily said, fighting down her queasiness as she clumsily swung her leg over her broom.

"Of course!" He smirked. "It's the night before Halloween, you know."

"Oh yes." She struggled to find her gloves, buried deep within her robes and underneath her ridiculously thick cloak. When had it gotten so cold? "How could I have forgotten?" Sometimes, she thought that Halloween was more important than Christmas around here. "Anything I shouldn't know about?"

"Plenty, seeing as you're Head Girl, and all that." He adjusted his scarf, which blazed bright Gryffindor colors against his dark cloak.

"Although I suppose that our dear Head Boy is in the thick of it," she said dryly, pulling out her gloves and slipping them on.

He took out his wand and tapped it against her broom before she could protest; she immediately felt the effects of a Cushioning as well as a Warming Charm. "Nah," he said, and Lily, surprised, jerked her head up to stare at him.

"Really?"

He shook his head. "I mean, Prongs planned nearly everything, but he decided that he wouldn't actually be involved tomorrow, and that's all I'm allowed to divulge. Now, are we gonna fly, or what?"

"Huh." Obediently, she grabbed her broom with both hands, half-thinking about James. This wasn't normal behavior for him, was it? For years, he'd always been the one she stumbled upon in the corridors, halfway through the execution of one prank or another. And now he wasn't even going to be around tomorrow? "W-why isn't he involved?" she asked, hoping that her voice sounded casual enough. This just seemed…_wrong_.

Sirius adjusted her hands. "He said he had other plans." She could hear the smile leave his voice, and she _really_ didn't like that. For the most part, Sirius seemed to treat the world as a joke, so anytime he got serious, she felt a ripple of unease.

"Other plans come before you guys? Since when?"

He shrugged, eyes narrowed. "He claims Head Boy stuff. I guess he's gotten all responsible this year."

"Responsibility!" she scoffed, even though, inside, she felt like something was very off about all of this. "Nobody actually believes in that, do they?"

"I dunno, Head Girl, do they?" He ran a hand through his hair, frowning uneasily. "Let's talk about this later, yeah? You wanted to learn to fly? You'll have to get off the ground first."

Changing the subject seemed like a great idea. "Right," she said. "Flying." She could pester Sirius about his best mate at a later date.

And, just like that, Sirius was happy again. He was so mercurial, he really was. "It's all about the kickoff, really. You have to angle upward just a little bit" – she copied him – "before you push. And then, make sure that you lean forward and, y'know, hang on to your broom when you're in the air." Ha! As if there was a chance that she'd let go. "Got it?"

She took a deep breath, staring at her broom again. "I think it's the getting off the ground that I'm going to have trouble with. And, you know, the staying on the broom part. That might also be an issue."

"I'll be right next to you," he promised, eyes twinkling. "The whole time."

"The whole time?" she muttered. "Even if I fall?"

"I would catch you." He grinned rakishly, which was not, in any way, shape, or form, a comforting grin. "But you're not going to fall. I won't let you." She kinda wished he had a comforting grin.

She couldn't help but sound skeptical. "Really?" Merlin, it was cold out here. And it was hardly going to get any warmer once they were further off the ground.

"Nah." He looked at her oddly for a moment. "Prongs would have my head if I let something happen to you." Before she had a chance to process what he'd said, he had kicked off, and was rising smoothly into the air. She watched him go, cheeks flushed; he made it look so easy, she thought. He and the broom were, like, connected.

Sirius circled around, hair ruffling in the wind. For a moment, he looked utterly carefree, like there wasn't anything in the world that could faze him. "C'mon, Evans. You can do this."

_I can do this. I can totally do this. Just ignore that fear of heights. Aurors don't have fears. Or, I bet they deal with their fears. Or something. Okay, better move before I work myself into a panic._ _I'll just_ – she kicked off, feeling her shoes press firmly against the dirt and grass as she leaned forward, trying to remember everything. _Hang on. Lean. Don't fall off. Really really really don't fall off._

Maybe she'd angled the broom wrong, or maybe her kick-off hadn't been strong enough – it shot forward slowly, and she practically nose-dived into the ground, tumbling off the broom and into the grass.

She was momentarily shocked. But really, what had she been expecting? It was her first time in seven years, and she didn't exactly have a talent for this. Of course this happened; of course she fell.

But Lily Evans had never given up in her life (if anything, she had a knack for stubbornness), so she got up grimly and tried again.

And again, completely conscious that Sirius was circling and watching. To his credit, he was only shouting words of encouragement, and not ridiculing her. He was really being a wonderful mate.

This time, practically screaming "Up!" in frustration, she tried again, getting back on the broom and kicking off, hard. So, she wasn't really prepared for the broom to actually respond to her touch; it wobbled uncontrollably, but she hung on grimly, repeating what Sirius had said to her, again and again and again. _Hang on. Lean forward. Hang on. Lean forward. Oh Merlin don't fall off. _

This was nothing like the Muggle way of flying, she thought, gripping her broom tightly with her knees. _Hang on. _Muggles hopped into planes, sat down by strangers, and munched on some peanuts. _Lean forward._ Muggles didn't have to do anything except pay money in order to fly.

This was a lot more work than that. _Don't let go._ As the stick that she was tightly wrapped around sped through the air, the wind whipped past, blowing the strands of her hair into her face and billowing out her robes. _Hang on._ She didn't dare look beyond her broom. (It was still jerking slightly.)

"Hey, Evans." She jumped a little at the voice in her ear, barely remembering in time to keep hanging onto her broom handle.

"Black!" she shrieked, spitting hair out of her mouth. "Don't ever fucking do that again!" Twisting her head, she saw him grinning ear to ear. "You…you…_wanker!_" And then she realized that she'd taken her eyes from the broom, so she snapped her head back.

"That the best you got?" he retorted. "Wanker?"

"For now." She adjusted her grip. "I'll get back to you later." _Hang on._

He shouted, "You do realize that you're flying, right? You can take your eyes off the broom!"

"I'm not sure I can," she said honestly, barely hearing him over the wind. _Lean forward._

"It's okay, you know," he said in her ear again. She fought the urge to jerk her head around to stare at him. "You _can_ get more than two meters off the ground."

"That's it?" She laughed nervously. "Two meters?" Two meters was like…slightly more than Remus' height, wasn't it? That was nothing. _Hang on._ She could look up, couldn't she?

Slowly, ever so slowly, Lily raised her head, daring to look beyond the broom. _Okay. There's the ground. It's green. Green is good. And then there's, you know, the stands and stuff_, she thought, trying to take long, slow breaths. As long as she stayed calm, everything would be fine, right? _Maybe I can look at the…okay, there's a bit of sky. It's blue. I can stay calm, right? Totally calm…_

She angled her broom a little bit, daring to go higher. A few more minutes, and she decided to angle her broom even more. She could do this, right? She could fly, dammit! Anything that that Mary McDonald bint could do, she could do too. Okay, maybe she wasn't going to be a Chaser anytime soon. But still. What kind of thoughts were running through her head at this point anyway?

_If you have time to think about Mary McDonald, you must not be that freaked out, _she said to herself sternly. This broomstick riding thing wasn't so difficult. _And_, she wasn't going to fall.

"Good job, Evans. You're doing great." His voice was warm and reassuring. She could trust, that, right? "Seriously. I'm right next to you." Yeah, she could trust Sirius. At this point, she didn't really have a choice about the matter.

"Okay," she muttered, staring at a limited patch of sky. She could totally do this. Totally. This wasn't so difficult, right? Well, she wasn't going to try any of the crazy stunts that James and Sirius often attempted in the middle of their Quidditch games. Flying in a straight line was good enough for her. (She knew, in her head, that she would eventually have to turn around, but maybe Sirius could help with that.) Raising her head a little bit, she risked looking at Sirius' beaming face.

She even risked a tiny smile. Maybe she was starting to understand what the big deal was. "Black, I'm flying!"

ooo

"Wasn't that _fun_?" Sirius pulled off his gloves, shoving them into a pocket. "Aren't you just _glad_ you came?"

She smiled tiredly, rewrapping her scarf against the brisk fall breeze. "Honestly, yes, Black. Thank you." There wasn't even a teensy, tiny lie anywhere in that statement, she thought. "That wasn't so bad, after all."

He grinned as he ran a cloth over his broom. "My ideas are the best. Just admit it." Five hours after they'd started, they were currently sitting in the stands at the Quidditch Pitch, in the process of cleaning things up. Wizards and their brooms were definitely the wizarding equivalent of boys and their cars – who knew how much cleaning and polishing were involved?

Lily rolled her eyes. "Maybe not all the time. But just this once, I'll have to hand it to you. Thanks for taking the time for all this." She waved a hand vaguely, hoping he understood what she was trying to say. She wasn't exactly great with showing gratitude. "I mean, you really didn't have to."

"'Course I did!" Before she could protest, he barreled onwards. "We're mates now, and guess what! We've been mates for one whole week!"

She did some quick calculations in her head before smiling and agreeing, even daring to say flippantly, "Longest platonic relationship you've ever had with a girl, right?" Besides the dates that he always had for Hogsmeade, Sirius pretty much just stayed within his circle of friends.

He smirked, grey eyes crinkling at the corners. "Close to it, I think."

She laughed, pulling her own gloves off and tucking them away. "I feel so special!"

"You should! Did you finish with that polish?"

"Oh. Here." She handed the tiny glass bottle back, stifling a yawn.

"Great!" He packed up his shiny and expensive-looking broom polishing kit and stood, slipping the kit into his Quidditch bag. "Want to head back? It's a bit chilly." He reached out a hand, slinging both brooms over his shoulder with the other.

"Oh, you just noticed!" she quipped, letting him pull her to her feet. As they started down the steps, she added, "I thought it was just me." Her head was turned towards him, so she didn't see who spoke next. Nevertheless, it was a familiar voice.

"Sirius, have you seen my old broom anywhere? I woke up and it was – oh, hi, Lily." She spun around so fast, she lost her balance, and before she knew it, her foot had gotten caught under a bench. With an embarrassing squeak, she sprawled, falling into Sirius and knocking him down as well. He grunted.

Dumbly, she said, "James!"

He blinked owlishly. "What were you guys doing?" His cheeks were pink from the cold and his jumper was a maroon splotch against the sky; he looked, she thought, rather like a small child, his hair sticking up every which way.

"Nothing much." Lily smiled gratefully as James leapt forward gracefully and hauled both of them to their feet. "Sirius was teaching me how to fly."

"He was?" Something flickered across James' face, but then it was gone. "That's awfully nice of him."

"Isn't it?" she giggled, handing James her bag. That was really the best thing about blokes, she thought, feeling her tiredness dissipate at the sight of James, who was scowling good-naturedly at the weight of her bag. Blokes, even if they weren't great conversationalists (which James and Sirius, admittedly, were), were always good for carrying things back and forth. With the last vestiges of her dignity, she carefully picked her way down the steps and around the benches, asking, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Erm…like I said, I realized that my extra broom was missing."

"You check to make sure that your spare broom is around every morning?" Lily asked incredulously.

"Hey, this was my first adult broom!" James said defensively, hazel eyes wide. "It's been through a lot! It's like, like – " he sputtered.

"Sorry, mate." Sirius trailed slightly behind, both brooms still hooked over his shoulder. "I think Peter broke my spare and didn't tell me. I figured we'd have them returned before you even got out of bed."

Glancing back at his struggling friend, James took one of the brooms, saying casually, "Nobody sleeps _that_ late."

"Aaaaaaaand… where's Pete?"

James tilted his head slightly. "I concede defeat." The three of them exited the Quidditch Pitch, laughing comfortably. As they strode back to the castle, he asked, "How was the flying lesson?"

"Great!" She noticed that she'd buttoned her cloak wrong, so she set about fixing that. "Sirius is a fantastic teacher!" And he really was. He'd been encouraging, and funny, and extraordinarily patient with her.

"Of course I am!" Sirius ruffled her hair. "Well, you _are_ a good student."

"Aw, thanks, Black!" Then she remembered something. "Potter, are we tutoring tomorrow?"

"Why wouldn't we?" He looked at her quizzically. "It's a Monday, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not like it's Halloween or any – " she broke off, feeling like an idiot. How could she have forgotten whatever internal drama was happening within the Marauders? "Never mind. We'll talk about it later."

James shrugged nonchalantly, but she didn't miss the dark looks that he and Sirius were exchanging.

"Yeah," Sirius bit out, grey eyes flashing. "It's not like Halloween is a big deal or anything around here."

"Can we talk about this later?" James said between gritted teeth.

_ Bugger._ She was a moron, that's what she was. How could she have brought this up? Just when everything was going so well?

"No, let's talk about this now – _Lily_ can decide_._" She hadn't heard Sirius be this derisively mocking in _months_.

"Hey!" she objected, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. "I'm not getting involved!" That was, really, the last thing she wanted.

"Don't drag her into this," James snapped, adjusting his hold on her bag. "We'll talk about this _later._"

As they walked, they lapsed into a terse silence. Lily hoped that maybe the subject had just been dropped. Maybe they could talk about this later. Unfortunately, her hopes were not reality; they were almost at the castle when Sirius said, sounding sickeningly sweet, "But Prongs, don't you want her to hear about how _responsible_ you're being? Don't you want – "

"That's it!" Lily had had enough. "Sirius, why don't you go on ahead?"

"But – " he started to say, mouth open and clearly ready to embark on a tirade.

She cut him off with a sharp look.

"Lily – " James said plaintively, the broom drooping over his shoulder.

"_Go_." For a moment, Lily watched Sirius leave, listening to his angry grumbling the whole time. It was only after Sirius disappeared beyond the doors that Lily turned to march in the direction of Hagrid's cottage, and towards the wide expanse of grounds that lay between the castle and said cottage. She assumed James would follow.

"Lily, what's this all about?" He sounded mildly puzzled.

She was fuming, and she didn't really have a clear idea why. She spun on her heel, feeling her shoe slide against the mushy grass, and jabbed a finger at James' chest. "Why are you being such a…such a…such a _wanker_!" she sputtered. Really, that was her new favorite word today.

He blinked slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Why aren't you doing Halloween?"

James gave her a look that seemed to be deliberately constructed to be blank.

She swatted him. "You know perfectly well that _I_ know what you tossers get up to on Halloween. What's different about tomorrow?"

His blank look melted away as he stared down at the ground and scuffed his shoes. "W-well, I'm Head Boy now, and – "

"Bollocks!" She hit him again, wondering why she was so angry. Wasn't this something that James and Sirius had to deal with? Wasn't this something she _didn't_ want to be involved in? This was a boy issue, right? Except, except –

There was this nagging feeling in the back of her head that she was part of the reason James wanted to act responsibly. And she hated that. She didn't want to be the one who made James change into a "better person."

But this was just her being egotistical, right? _Not everything in the world is about you_, she scolded herself. _Don't be an idiot._ Aloud, she said, "That's a terrible reason. What's really going on?"

"Being Head Boy means responsibility, Evans. It means – "

"I know what you think it means, Potter," she retorted. "But haven't you always been a Marauder first, and Head Boy second? Get your priorities straight, for crying out loud!"

"I know my priorities!" he countered.

"Really? Because I think that you _should_ go and break a rule or two!" Whoa. Where had that outburst come from? She twisted her hands into her robes and stared at her shoes.

"I told them; I have plans!" James cried, dropping the things (her things, really) he was carrying in order to throw his hands up in exasperation.

"With someone other than your friends? What could you _possibly_ be doing?" The words were just flying out of her mouth, faster and faster. "Or who, I suppose." And she didn't know why, but she felt the sting of her own words, and she wanted to take them back. Now. Oh, why had she said that? Why couldn't she control her own damn mouth?

When she looked up from her shoes, James was in the process of blushing. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever seen a boy blush so hard. And then he mumbled, "Tutoring conflicts with the Plan."

She wasn't sure she'd heard him right. "You _what?_"

"You know." He scuffed his shoes again, looking rather young. "Tutoring."

What was he, a nutter? She stared at him. "You're turning down your friends for a group of obnoxious fourth years? Why?" Inside, she was holding her breath and wondering, what his answer would be.

At this point, James was positively red. "Not for the fourth years," he muttered, picking up his broom again.

She grabbed her own bag and turned to leave, feeling all uncomfortable and on edge and choosing _not_ to ask the obvious question. Later that night, she would ask herself why not, and she would already know the answer – she was afraid of what he might say, and what he might mean. This had been happening more and more often – their conversations would break off abruptly when one or the other would approach a sensitive subject.

Sometimes, she wondered if maybe they just didn't function well as friends. As she walked back to the castle, she considered the fact that maybe they were better off before, when they didn't talk so much.

"Lily, wait up!" James was jogging a little to catch up to her. "Slow down, will you? I'm hauling my broom around!"

She sighed, but slowed down nonetheless, feeling unexpectedly exhausted. "Leave me alone."

"What've I done?" he asked softly. "You're scaring me."

"I just don't get why you're changing like this." Bugger, she didn't know why she was saying the things she was. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone?

"What do you mean? I haven't changed!" he yelped.

She sped up, not wanting to look at him.

"I haven't, I swear! How have _I _changed?"

"Let's just drop it, okay?" She walked faster, her pulse racing.

"Lily – "

"All this responsibility rubbish!" she muttered. "Since _when_ do you put responsibility before your friends? Ever?"

"What are you talking about? Merlin, Evans, what's wrong with _you_?"

"What's wrong with me?" she shrieked, losing her temper. Oh, it was just like him to turn it around on her. "You're the one who – "

"Since when do you care!" He reached out to grab her arm, but she jerked away. "Since when do you care about what I do?"

She didn't have an answer for that, so she increased her pace, her hair whipping about in the wind – she was practically jogging towards the castle by now. When they'd reached the doors (again), she pulled one open and slipped inside, not bothering to keep the door open for him. _Why did I bring this up? Why didn't I just let. This. Go?_

Behind her, the door banged open, and she heard James' quick footfalls, racing down the hallway after her. And then he was grabbing her wrist and spinning her to face him. She couldn't help but stare up at his big hazel eyes, hating that he was so much taller than her. Life, she thought, was treating her badly.

After a moment, he said quietly, "Lils, as the Heads, you know we're supposed to be models for the younger students, and –"

"Spare me the drivel. I've heard it all before, and it's completely meaningless." She narrowed her eyes when he tried to protest. "Obviously, we should model how to break the rules _and_ get away with it. Obviously," she repeated, a little bit softer this time. And then she realized what was really at stake here. "Do you remember that agreement we made when we first got back? To be friends?"

"Uh huh." He looked confused. "Respectability, and all that."

Lily ducked her head down at her shoes once more – she really had a terrible habit of doing that. "Right. Respectability, but not _responsibility_," she said slowly. "And if you don't get this about me, then I just don't get how we can be friends."

"Of course we're – "

"No, not really," she bit out. "True friends don't make friends change, and _true_ friends don't get between other friends." She thought about her Gryffindor friends, and how they accepted one another for the way that they were, even if there were personality clashes every once in awhile.

"We're friends – " he said, sounding perplexed. He ran a hand through his hair.

"No, we're not." She shook her head and backed away from him. "I really like you, James." Merlin, why did _every_ conversation with him turn into a serious one? He blushed, and went to say something, but she kept going. "But I really like Sirius, and Remus, and Peter, too."

James let out a long, low breath. "Where are you going with this?"

"I don't like seeing you lot squabble, and I hate it even more that I feel like _I_ caused you to change, and _I_ caused this rift, and until _you_ sort this out, I just don't feel like we can be friends. I like you guys just the way you are, but you don't seem to get that." She didn't know what she was saying until the words came out, but once they did, they just felt…right. This was the right thing to do. "So, I'm out," she finished quietly, nervously twisting her hand in the strap of her bag.

And then she left, her eyes a bit wet, and she was just incredibly glad that, this time, he didn't follow her.

ooo

A/N: Liked it? Hated it? Drop me a line!

P.S. It looks like the UnknowableRoom isn't coming back anytime soon, so I'll start uploading all of my one shots soon - there's a couple that are Knack interludes.


	16. An End to All Games

_Thursday, November 3, 1977_

"Miss Evans, you _do_ realize that your application is due in less than a month, yes?" Professor Minerva McGonagall peered over the top of her spectacles, wondering if her stern look just wasn't stern enough. Had she lost her touch? The girl was clearly spacing, her attention wandering away from the meeting at hand. Didn't she realize how serious this was?

But of course she did. Minerva had picked this girl for her brains, hadn't she? Wasn't that why she was Head Girl?

She put more of an edge into her voice, then tried again. "_Miss Evans_."

Lily blinked, her vision coming into focus. "Sorry?" She really didn't want to be here right now – didn't McGonagall have better things to do than worry about one student's future?

She didn't miss the way her professor was looking pointedly at her as the question was repeated. _Oops_.

In answer, all she could do was shrug, slumping in her chair. She knew her stupid application was due, and she knew she'd get it done eventually…but that didn't mean she was going to do it now. She had other things to worry about, like – _don't think about him – that – right now. Think about anything but that. Focus!_

Her Head of House let out a slow, long-suffering sigh, and Lily had to suppress her weekly feeling of guilt. "Miss Evans, do you want to be an Auror, or not?"

More than any other job, anyway! Lily nodded emphatically.

Now McGonagall leaned forward, her arms folded on the desk. "If you really want to be an Auror, then you'll have to demonstrate a little more commitment. Am I being clear?"

She nodded again, her mind flying in a thousand directions, none of which had anything to do becoming an Auror. How much longer could this meeting last, anyway?

McGonagall _tsked_, but only said, "You're dismissed." Lily moved to leave, but her professor kept going. "Also, I know that we usually meet biweekly, but I expect to see you next week as well, for an update on your application. That will be all."

Lily tried not to look irritated as she hauled herself out of the chair and headed towards the door, pretending not to notice that her professor was radiating disappointment. But it hurt, it really did. It was like she'd been spelled to feel guilty when her professors were upset with her, even if she'd deliberately done something wrong. _I'll get some of the application done this week_, she promised herself, already trying to fix everything._ McGonagall will cheer up in no time – she likes me, I think._ She was so busy muttering to herself, she didn't even notice the boy standing in the hallway until he grabbed her arm, keeping her from walking.

On instinct, she jerked her arm away and jumped back. When she saw who it was, though, she almost laughed. Of course it was just Sirius. "Whoa there, Evans." He chuckled, acting like it wasn't the first time they'd spoken in days (it was). "How are you?"

She gave him a brief smile. "Hey, Sirius."

"Rough session with the dragon?" He gave her a look of concern.

She laughed a little and shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle. You ready for yours?"

He flashed a smirk. "Always. I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoed. Of course they'd see each other – they were in the same sodding House.

And that was it. Sirius strode boldly through McGonagall's door, a flirtatious grin already on his face. "Hello, Minnie, did you miss me?"

The moment he was gone, she let the smile slip from her face. It was so easy for him to act like everything was normal, wasn't it?

But things weren't normal. In fact, things couldn't be stranger, really. Ever since she'd walked away from James, she'd taken care to avoid him and, well, all of his friends, really. That was easy for her. She sat on the other side of every classroom, she ate at the far end of the Gryffindor table, and she often stayed late in the library so that she wouldn't have to go back to the common room until after everyone had gone upstairs. On Monday, she'd skived off tutoring and sent Isabella instead, who had come back and griped about teaching the Impedimento Counter-curse with Ursula Gilmore, the Ravenclaw prefect. Apparently, Ursula was bollocks at aiming curses, so she accidentally hit a couple of fourth years in the back, and Isabella was now sporting bruises all over her body. Lily felt bad, but on the other hand, it was James who had sent such a shoddy replacement.

Still, she supposed it was a good thing that he hadn't shown up. It meant that he'd listened to what she'd had to say, right? And she could certainly see why his friends had needed him – at the Halloween Feast that night, they had unleashed all sorts of devious tricks onto the school's population. Oh, none of them had gotten caught, but everyone knew who was responsible.

She smiled as she rounded a corner, remembering. Everyone, especially the professors, had been tense for most of the meal, waiting for the traditional mischief to ensue (in the past, things had tended to happen towards the beginning). This year, however, just when people had started to relax, she'd noticed James discreetly nod his head towards Remus. Almost instantly, there was a flash of smoke, and when the air had cleared…well, among other things, all of the professors had suddenly found themselves to be somewhere between five to seven years old, flailing about in overly large robes (Flitwick had been a pretty child, and even McGonagall was adorable). Everyone would have stared at that, but they were busy with their own problems.

Lily was pretty sure that James had simply spiked everyone's drinks (though Slytherin had gotten the worst of it – some of them were still in the Hospital Wing). And thinking of that made her think of that time when he'd found her in the kitchens, and how much the elves had liked him. In fact, pretty much everyone liked him. Well, except for Severus. Her heart clenched a little at the thought of Severus, but thinking of him didn't really hurt anymore. In truth, he was fading from her memory, like a wound that had scabbed over.

She figured she'd replaced him. As she climbed through the portrait hole, she caught sight of her friends, curled up on the couches in front of the hearth (the most coveted spot in the room), pretending to be engrossed in their textbooks. (Not that she cared, or anything, but James and the others were nowhere to be found. But she didn't care.)

Her true friends, who had been with her through thick and thin. Severus had befriended her at the beginning, but then he'd changed, and, well, her Gryffindor friends hadn't.

Change. Sometimes it was good, but this time, it definitely wasn't. With a wan smile, she went over to her friends and sprawled on the floor beside Fiona, peering over the other girl's shoulder. "What are you working on?"

Fiona yawned, lazily flipping the page with one finger. "Trelawney gave me two hundred pages of reading for tomorrow, but I've only read about five so far. It's going to be a long night, I think. Where've you been?"

Lily wrinkled her nose at the thought of Divination, even as she answered her friend's question. (Divination was one of those subjects which Lily had dropped as quickly as possible.) "I had a meeting with McGonagall." She leaned back against the couch where Emmy was currently napping, her half-finished essay laying across her stomach, a quill next to her face. It really was amazing that Emmy could sleep amidst all the noise of the room. "It ran a little over."

"How'd it go?" That was from Isabella, who was lounging in an armchair with what looked like the Arithmancy reading that was due next week. But Isabella liked to stay on top of things.

"Fine." She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, watching the orange-red flickering of the fire. It was getting a lot colder lately; soon, she would need to pull out the heavy winter cloak again (Lily didn't really hold with constantly casting warming charms in order to wear less clothing – call her old-fashioned). "I just have a lot to do."

Fee quirked a grin and scrawled a note in the margins of her book. "Still not done with your application?" It was entirely a rhetorical question. These days, it seemed as if all anyone could talk about was what they would be doing next year, when they'd finished school. Everyone seemed to have finished their applications, and now they seemed to want to let everyone know.

But lately, everyone seemed to want to talk about things other than the war.

"I'll get it done eventually," she said quietly, more to herself than to her friends, who were already going back to their work. And she would. Maybe even tonight. For once in her life, she was caught up with everything for tomorrow, so she didn't really have much to do tonight.

The common room was crowded, and she listened to the chatter of the younger students, doing work and playing Exploding Snap and discussing Quidditch player stats. They were all so happy, and she remembered being younger and only thinking about her friends and her classes. Things had been simpler, hadn't they?

God, when did she start feeling so old?

"Hey, Lily?" Now, even if she just wanted to focus on the now, she really should be thinking about next year, like McGonagall wanted her to. "Lily." And it wasn't like she wasn't thinking about the future, because she was. But she didn't like the odds and – "_Lily_!"

Previous thoughts forgotten, Lily looked away from the fire and over towards Isabella, who was calling her name. "What's up?"

The other girl snapped her book shut, a smile playing around her lips. For the first time in awhile, she looked mischievous, worry lines melting away. "This reading's boring, and I don't feel like doing it tonight. Want to play some chess?"

Well, there was always time to finish that application later, wasn't there? So she stretched, and stood, and said, "I'll get my set – be back in five."

Yes, no matter what your age, there was always time for games.

ooo

_Saturday, November 5, 1977_

The month of November was always a difficult month at Hogwarts, since it meant that everyone had been at school for far too long without a break. So, people tended to, well, go a little stir crazy.

Which was why, on one of the last Hogsmeade weekends before the winter holidays, Lily had the Gryffindor common room all to herself. Even the younger students had made themselves scarce today, choosing to play amongst the mountains of leaves instead of staying inside. At first, she had felt a little lonely, but now she was enjoying the silence.

It meant that, finally, she could focus on her application. If she could only stop daydreaming.

Picking up her quill again, she turned to the fifth page of the damned thing (she was sure the length of it was just some sort of hazing ritual).

_What do you believe are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?_

Lily always hated these sorts of questions. No one ever actually wrote down their weaknesses, unless their weaknesses could somehow be turned into strengths. But on the other hand, strengths couldn't be talked about too much, or else she would sound arrogant. So, what was she supposed to write down? How could she spin her words the right way?

The portrait hole swung open, and Lily almost dropped her quill at the sound, surprised that anyone was here. In the last three hours, no one had come in, and she'd gotten used to being alone. When she glanced across the room, her heart skipped a beat; of course it was him.

James blinked rapidly, pushing his glasses up his nose, and she noticed that his face was pale from the cold. For a moment, they stared at each other, saying nothing. Then – "H-Hello," he said finally, his voice neutral, colored grey like his jumper. "How are you?"

It wasn't really a question, but she answered him anyway, struggling to keep calm. "I'm fine." And then – "How are you?"

This was the first time they'd spoken in almost a week, and now they were acting like complete strangers. What had happened to them? What had she done?

He walked towards her and she flinched, her hand tensing around her quill. Then, realizing that he was merely going towards the boys' staircase, she relaxed, feeling like an idiot. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so on edge. Forcibly, she looked down at her papers, staring hard enough at the words to sear them into her brain.

_Strengths...and weaknesses. Strengths? Weaknesses. What are my –_

A shadow fell over her parchment, and she had to work to keep her leg from jumping nervously.

"What are you working on?" His voice was low, the words falling cautiously, one by one, as if he'd chosen them with far too much care.

She took a second to compose herself, but her words still came up a little high and strained. "An -an application."

"For what?" His tone reflected only a vague interest in what he was saying.

She put the quill down and looked up at him, trying not to sound incredibly, incredibly frustrated. "What do you want?"_ No point in dancing around the subject._

He blinked, visibly startled. "I was just…making conversation. Can't I do that?"

She inhaled sharply, feeling a pain in her chest. "I'm doing my Auror application. Suppose you're done already." What, were they just going to pretend to be friends now? Was that how it was going to go? For the rest of their lives, they'd just dance around any and all subjects that didn't involve the weather or how they were doing on any given day?

He shrugged, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She'd been having a lovely Saturday afternoon, and now she had to deal with him. And before she could even say anything, he dropped into the chair across from her.

Was he all right? Now that she'd taken a closer look at him, she noticed the shadows under his eyes, the faint trace of stubble on his jaw.

His hair looked even more unkempt than usual.

She blinked, realizing that she was staring at him. Quickly, she jerked her gaze back to her papers. But then, to her utter shock, he pulled out the chair across from hers and slumped into it.

"W-what do you think you're doing?" It was a struggle not to wince at the way her voice quavered. Why couldn't she stay calm around him?

At first, he didn't say anything, fixing his gaze on the table. Well, if he wasn't going to say anything, Lily decided, neither was she. So she went back to the application, scrawling something about how she often overcommitted to projects and even though she got everything done, she was often overworked. This was pure drivel – she just needed to get things on the page, turn the damn thing in, and hopefully score an interview (if not, then she supposed she'd really have to reconsider her career options).

She didn't know how long they sat like that, in total silence, but those next few minutes were sheer agony, and she had to work to keep her quill moving, to keep her hand from trembling. (A hysterical giggle bubbled to her lips - did this count as a weakness? Inability to stay calm around former friends?)

She moved on to the next page. _Aurors often work closely with a partner. How have you worked with someone you did not get along with?_

At this, she snuck a glance at James, who was still frowning at the table. Indeed, how did she work with someone she didn't like? She flashed back to memories of them arguing, fighting, taunting each other…joking, laughing, smiling…

His chair scraped the floor when he finally stood, and she grimaced when her quill jerked, splattering ink on the page. She looked up at him, feeling a flush of annoyance and anger and, well, something else entirely. Well? Was he going to say something? She was tired of awkwardness, tired of dealing with all of this -

"We need to talk." He looked down at her, eyes clouded.

Lily resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but said nothing. James always did have a flair for stating the obvious.

"Not now," he said, nodding at her papers. "You're busy. But soon."

And then he was gone.

ooo

_Wednesday, November 9, 1977_

Fiona had said to meet her for dinner at six, so Lily left the library around then, assuming, of course, that Fee would be running late. As she headed to the Great Hall, mentally going through all of the work that she still needed to finish tonight, she sighed with the realization that it was going to be a late, late night. _That essay for Flitwick is going to take at least four hours, since I didn't start it this weekend the way I should've -_

A hand gripped her arm and hauled her through an open door. She yelped, blindly groping for her wand with her only free hand. As she yanked herself away, she spun, pointing her wand at her assailant, the first defensive spell she could think of rising to her lips -

James blinked, confusion clear in his hazel eyes.

Of course it was James. Who else would haul her into an empty classroom without any warning? (Well, Sirius came to mind.) Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes, trying to calm down, hearing her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

When she opened her eyes again, James had backed up to the wall, hands up in a defensive posture. She sighed and tucked her wand away, feeling a weary annoyance sweep over her. "What do you want?"

His eyes hadn't left the handle of her wand, jutting out of her pocket. "You're quick on the draw," he said finally, meeting her eyes, his hands falling to dangle awkwardly at his sides.

Lily said nothing. James was obviously avoiding her question, but she could outwait him.

Probably.

A couple more heartbeats, and James broke, apparently having gathered his courage. "We need to talk," he said determinedly.

"Yes, you've said that before." She was trying to be flippant, but her words chased each other too quickly, and she worried that she might've sounded anxious instead. Worse – now that she'd had a chance to calm down and assess the situation, her heart was starting to race again. It had been days since she'd been forced to be in the same room as James, but this was a conversation that she couldn't keep avoiding.

Although she wasn't even sure what was going on. She'd be lying if she claimed she didn't have an inkling, but she wasn't sure if it was what she wanted…

James ran a hand through his hair, looking more anxious than she'd ever seen him. "Why…why aren't we friends anymore?"

She swallowed, hard. What could she possibly say to such a blunt statement?

But he wasn't finished. "I mean, I get it," he said, starting to pace, as if it was too hard to look at her.

She sat down in the closest chair, watching him move across the classroom. Breathing was seriously becoming difficult for her.

"You thought…you thought that you were the reason Sirius and I were fighting. You thought you'd changed us. That we were different because of you."

Her throat felt clogged and she could feel her eyes starting to tear up, just a little bit. Damn it. What was going on with her today? Why was it that anything having to do with James left her feeling emotional? What happened to the days when she could just laugh off his silly insults, his stupid ways? They'd had so much more _fun_ back then.

He stopped suddenly and stepped toward her, eyes blazing. She flinched – when had he gotten so intense? "Evans, why is it so bad for people to influence each other? Just because you like people the way they are doesn't mean that you have the right to get upset if they change." He crossed his arms and glared defiantly at her. "I think you're afraid of change, Lily Evans."

She sat up straight, grateful for the flash of anger – her eyes were miraculously dry now. "Me? Afraid of change?" she scoffed, feeling slightly crazed, wondering if she looked a little wild. "Please. As if. You-you're the one who is afraid of change!" She would've gone on, but she couldn't think of any examples.

"What? You're the one who – " He let out a frustrated sigh. "You can be really annoying, Evans."

Immediately, she shot back, "Look in the mirror, Potter. You've been annoying me for years." She bit her lip; how had this conversation spiraled so quickly into idiotic barbs? How did these things happen?

She wished they could just start over.

But hadn't that been what this year was about? Beginning anew? She'd made so many new friends this year. Lost a few, too, to be sure, but it was her last year at Hogwarts – she had wanted to do it right.

And now? Where was she now?

James started moving again, striding around the room, as if his restless energy just couldn't be contained. She watched him pace around the room, not knowing what to say. What was there to even say? She didn't even know how she was feeling. Was she angry? Annoyed? Frustrated?

Mostly, she supposed she was feeling overwhelmed. Why couldn't they go back to the days when they just laughed and joked with one another? When everything was light and fluffy and happy? At this point, an intense weariness had washed over her, and all she wanted to do was head to dinner and –

_Kee-rist._ She needed to get this show on the road. "Potter, do we actually need to talk about anything?" She injected her voice with just a soupçon of derision and a hell of a lot of boredom. "I do have dinner plans." Fiona was going to be so pissed.

He looked at her, all serious and crazy-eyed, and for just a moment, she was truly and honestly so terrified of what he might say, she forgot to breathe. His hair was sticking up in all sorts of places, his glasses were crooked, and she couldn't help but think that this was it – their final confrontation, and she –

"You make it really hard to like you sometimes," he said tightly, his voice quiet and restrained, his eyes flashing anger and irritation.

She froze, thoughts forgotten. "W-what?" God, she sounded so dumb.

"You heard me." He was being incredibly fierce now, and she felt stupid and helpless. What was happening? Was she imagining things? Was this all just one crazy dream? If it was, she'd really like to wake up right about now…

He was still talking. "I like you a lot, Evans." He paused, then clarified, "I mean, I really like you. Even when you're being obtuse and unbelievably frustrating." Where had his anxiety gone? His seriousness was starting to frighten her.

"What?" she said again, feeling thick, trying to process what he was saying. Before she knew it, she'd leapt up out of her seat, words flying out of her mouth. "Are you crazy?" What was he_thinking_? "How could you possibly like _me_?"

He laughed hollowly, and she was surprised at, well, his complete lack of surprise. "That's exactly why I like you. You don't even see it, do you?" All she could do was stare as he continued to prattle on. "You're gorgeous, and brilliant, and funny, and what's weird is that you don't even know how great you are."

"You've officially lost it." She backed away from James, disbelief flooding her entire system. "You couldn't possibly – "

"Thing is," James interrupted, blithely ignoring her. When had he become so focused? "I think you like me too. Even if I've 'changed.'"

At this point, she couldn't do anything but laugh hysterically. Part of her distantly noted that the tears were starting to come back to her eyes. "You – you think that I – that I – sorry, come again?"_ This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This really, really, really isn't happening._

Once, when she'd been a little girl, Petunia stole and hid her favorite stuffed rabbit, just to be cruel (okay, years later, Lily admitted that this incident had come to pass because Lily had "borrowed" Tuney's lipstick and smeared it all over the bathroom). Furious, Lily had stormed into Petunia's room and thrown a temper tantrum, demanding to know the location of Mr. Flopsie. Petunia had laughed at her and simply flipped the page in her fashion mag, and Lily, at this point angry beyond belief, had scrunched up her face in a wail, ready to call in the troops, known as Mum, and –

A flame had, out of nowhere, suddenly appeared at the corner of Petunia's magazine; both girls, shocked mute, had stared as flames erupted, consuming the entire magazine in a flash and vanishing without so much as a soot mark on the bedspread. Before Petunia could say anything, Lily had shut her eyes and chanted quietly, _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't…_

Yeah, it hadn't exactly worked then, either.

She was still laughing hysterically, even though James was regarding her with a look of seriousness, mixed with…resignation? She wasn't sure, but she couldn't think of the last time she'd been this terrified. But this was just a game, right? Wasn't everything just a game?

God, did James ever stop talking? "Look, I know this sounds like it's coming out of nowhere and everything, but you have to have known that I've liked you for years." He turned away from her, shoving his hands into his pockets. "This isn't how I thought this was going to go," he muttered.

Lily finally found her voice. "H-how did you think this was going to go?" Great. She'd gone from laughing hysterically to just being hysterical. "You thought you could just drag me into some room and tell me these things and I was just supposed to be okay with all of this?"

"Well…" James faltered. "Pretty much, yeah."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Yeah, she'd had the occasional thought about him, or whatever, but it had all been silly, a dream! There was no way that this could actually be real. Aloud, she said, "James, we're friends. Mates. I thought that things were going great, and then you just go and change the rules!" Crazy possibilities spun around in her head, but she dismissed them. Well, most of them. "What-what if we went out, for like a week, and then we broke up, and, and…and then we couldn't be friends anymore! Are you trying to ruin our friendship? God, what's wrong with you?" When had her face gotten so soggy? Were those tears all over her collar? God, when had she turned into such a sap? The feminist in her was ashamed.

"What?" Now it was James' turn to be struck dumb and confused. "You just – I – well, I didn't think – "

"That's just it!" Had her voice ever been this high before? She scarcely knew where she was going with this tirade anymore. "You never think! You're always worrying about the future, but you never think about how the now could change!" Her heart seemed to be trying to panic its way out of her chest cavity, one beat at a time.

"Lils…" James said softly, apparently having regained his confidence. He strode to the door, and she wondered if he was just going to walk out on her. Was that how they were going to leave things?

She should've known better. The two of them were all about getting the last word, and she should've known that James wouldn't let her "win" the conversation. Besides, he'd always been better than her at long speeches.

"Thing is," he continued, glancing back at her, "I'm a really great guy. And I do like you, I have liked you for awhile, but I can't honestly wait around for you forever." He shrugged helplessly. "I figured, if I just came clean, we could be more than friends. But clearly, you're not ready."

Outraged, she started to sputter, "I-I'm not – "

When had he developed such a knack for talking over her? He said, "Clearly, you're not ready, and I guess I was wrong about you." A sad smile ghosted across his face. "I don't think we can be friends for awhile. I'll see you around, Lily."

And then he was gone, leaving her alone in an abandoned classroom, tears trickling down her cheeks. What really stuck with her was that last use of her name – when was the last time James had just used her first name like that?

She sat back down, feeling numb. What was happening?

Why did games have to end?


	17. Decisions

**Decisions**

Thursday,_ November 10, 1977_

By seven in the morning, Lily was already in the Great Hall, listlessly poking at her oatmeal with a spoon. _Maybe in a few minutes, I'll head to the library before class… _With any luck, she could manage to get to class without speaking to anyone. Maybe she could even get through the whole day like this.

But Lily Evans was a terribly unlucky person.

"Lily, Lily, Lily Evans," Sirius, in a sing-song voice, slid into the seat across from hers. Despite the cheerful tone, his eyes glittered. "What have you done now?"

Lily spooned some more cinnamon into her bowl, and wondered if there was honey somewhere. "You're up early," she muttered, not feeling particularly friendly. "Did you want something?" After the week they'd had, she was surprised he was even speaking to her.

"Well, I hear that Prongs has been sharing secrets with you," he informed her, and she had to struggle not to look shocked. But of course he knew. Of course they shared everything. "I wanted to share a secret with you, too." Blithely, he scooped some hash onto his plate, then looked around, appearing to consider the waffle platter.

Furtively, she looked around to see if anyone was listening. But of course no one was – hardly anyone even ate breakfast this early. Hell, classes didn't even start until _nine_.

That was part of the reason why she was here right now.

"Okay, Sirius," she said, wearily playing along. "What's your secret?"

For a moment, his gray eyes stopped dancing, and her breath hitched. "Evans, you're completely daft."

Bitterly, she responded, "So I've been told." She reached for the honey and poured a large glob into the bowl, then stirred the oatmeal, trying not to look at Sirius.

She knew, however, that he was staring at her, trying to get her to look at him. After a moment, she complied, meeting his eyes. They stared at each other silently, and she automatically tried not to blink - a habit from years of competing with Petunia.

She lost.

"Awright," she said grudgingly. "I suppose that you want me to apologize, or to say that I've changed my mind, or to - "

"No," Sirius said, and from the look on his face, it seemed as if he was as surprised by his answer as she was. "I mean," he hastily corrected, "I was going to, but you look kind of pathetic, so maybe I should hear you out first."

"Hear me out?" she echoed, trying to make sense of his words. "I look…pathetic?"

He nodded, fingers drumming restlessly on the table. "You do indeed. Like a drowned kitten."

She winced. "That's not very flattering to a girl."

"Oh, but you're not a skirt. He flapped a hand at her and popped a piece of toast into his mouth. "You're Evans. You don't have to be flattering to a mate."

"Gee, thanks."

He propped his head on one arm and stared at her, his gaze piercing. "So. Tell me. What happened?"

She looked down at the table, her leg jiggling restlessly. "I...I don't know," she said honestly. "I mean, I thought we were just mates, I thought it was totally simple, and, then out of nowhere he just - "

"Actually, I believe you flipped out first," he said acidly.

"Well, well, yeah, but that's just because he was being weird!" she sputtered, feeling ridiculous. This whole conversation was ridiculous. Why were all her conversations with people about James?

He raised a single elegant eyebrow. "Evans, you're daft. What kind of bloke spends this long just _talking_ to a skirt? We thought you knew."

"What? How could you - "

"You guys were always flirting," he pointed out reasonably. "Hell, half the school thinks you two are dating."

"We were just joking! Weren't we just having fun?" she said helplessly. _Since when do I find flirting to just be fun?_

He didn't say anything, but he did keep his eyebrow arched. "Don't kid yourself."

"I..."

"Evans, come _on_." He spread his hands.

She sighed. If she was being honest, she needed to admit to herself that she had known, she'd had a bit of an inkling. "I just didn't want it to be true," she whispered to herself. "I thought if I just ignored it..."

Sirius was being inscrutable. "Really," he said, drawing the word out. "Sounds like a good plan."

"Oh, like James' was any better?" she snapped back, feeling defensive. "Just pull a girl into an empty classroom and confess his love and assume that it'll all work out? Oh, please," she scoffed. "I was just about to tell him we could be mates again."

"Yeah, well, we didn't really think his plan would work," Sirius admitted. He paused a moment, then said finally, begrudgingly, "I know it wasn't your fault." At her confused look, he said, "that Prongs and I were in a fight, I mean." Oh, right. That all seemed so long ago – at the moment, she felt too old and tired to even remember the events of last week. Her anger seemed more like a memory than the real thing.

Sirius was drumming his fingers on the table, and she thought he looked distinctly uncomfortable. He was still talking. "Sometimes I just get so angry, you know? And I was just – "

"Mad at James and trying to hurt him," she finished for him, understanding coming to her. When had they gotten to know each other so well? How had that happened?

"Yeah." He looked at her, a little bit lost, and that puppy dog look of his reminded her of -

She gasped. It reminded her of the moment when Lily had received her Hogwarts letter and given it to Petunia to read, wanting her sister to tell her what to do. It was the moment that Petunia had raised her head from the letter, looking -

"You're afraid," she whispered, staring at him with a flash of clarity. "You're afraid of being left behind."

The shock in his clear gray eyes was palpable. "What? You - I - I mean, you - "

"It's okay," she said, raising a hand, interrupting him. "I understand. I get it."

"How could you possibly - ?"

"You think I'm not as close with my mates as you are with yours?" she retorted. For some reason, the assumption stung more than it ought to, but she tried to brush it off. Taking a deep breath, she said quietly, "I meant what I said before, Sirius. I would never try to change you, or come between you two." Why – why – Merlin, blokes could be so _daft_ sometimes.

They sat in thick silence, and she watched him pick up his fork and decide what to eat.

He went for the eggs.

After a moment, he tilted his head, studying her as he scooped food into his mouth. "You're a weird sort of skirt," he mumbled around his mouthful.

She quirked a grin, feeling the heaviness in the air dissipate. "But you said I'm not a skirt. And that's why we're mates. You know you like me."

He stood up, and she couldn't help but feel unsettled, like something important had happened and she'd…missed it.

Felt like she was missing a lot these days.

As he slung his bag over one shoulder, he said, grinning, "If I were you, I would give Prongs a chance."

And then he was gone, leaving her feeling surly again.

Wasn't James the one that had left _her_?

ooo

"He-_WHAT?_"

Lily frowned. "You don't actually sound surprised, Fee." It was almost nine, and Fiona and Isabella had cornered her in her bed, asking where she'd been for the last few days. Before she knew it, the entire story had spilled out, and now here they were, all thoughts of work forgotten.

The other girl widened her eyes, but Lily wasn't fooled. "I am! I can't believe he – "

"Oh, shut up." Isabella slid off her perch and stretched like a dancer, back curving deeply. "Lily's not stupid." She looked at Lily with something akin to…sympathy? Lily wasn't sure; even at the best of times, Isabella was hard to read.

Fiona shrugged, all pretenses gone. "Awright, then. We knew."

"_What_?" Unlike her friends, Lily wasn't faking it. "What do you mean – how?"

Fiona grabbed one of the pillows from her bed and clutched it to her chest, sitting cross-legged once more. "It wasn't as if James was hiding it or anything."

"Well – well – _why didn't anyone tell me?_" Her eyes darted from one girl to the other, and back. She couldn't decide if she was angry or not. Right now, she was leaning towards _yes._

She was _furious_. "You knew this whole time and you said _nothing_?" If it had been her in their shoes, she would've – well, she didn't really know what she would've done. But surely she would've said _something_. "Literally everyone around me knew something _important_ and all of you just thought you'd have your fun and watch me go and be stupid, is that it?"

Where was Emmeline, anyway? She would've been a voice of reason. But lately, Lily hadn't seen much of her, ever since she'd taken up with Fabian Prewett.

Okay, maybe Sirius had a point – when you did take up with someone, you had to sacrifice some time with your friends.

But was that true? Or was it just because Lily had also been withdrawn in the past few weeks? First she'd been spending all that time with James and his friends, and then all the fighting...Lily had been busy fussing about James, and Emmy had been off with Prewett, which meant that Fee and Isabella had been left to their own devices, and they'd squabbled a lot lately…

Which all meant that none of them had spent any time with each other. So maybe relationships had nothing to do with fractured friendships…

Or maybe this was only because Fabian had graduated, so he obviously couldn't spend much time with Emmy's friends, but Lily couldn't help but think that if she and James –

_It would be so easy_, she thought. Most of their friends were Gryffindor seventh years – they tended to spend a lot of time together anyway, because they all had classes together and they all ate together…

God, what was she thinking? She and James weren't even _anything_.

She went back to glaring. Hopefully, her fury was being clearly communicated.

Isabella jumped onto Lily's bed and lay down on her stomach, propping her head on her hands. "I'm sorry, Lily, we just didn't think it was a big deal. You guys have been bouncing back and forth for _years_."

"And, frankly, we never thought James would do anything like _this_." That was Fiona, examining her nails all the while.

Lily started pacing, her anger fading to perplexity. "But…not a big deal? _Of course it's a big deal!_ I had no idea!"

Like Sirius this morning, Fiona merely raised an eyebrow. "Really? You can honestly say that?"

When Sirius had said that, or something along those lines, Lily had scoffed and dismissed it easily enough. An inkling of an idea was practically the same as no idea at all, when you looked at it. Why, if she tried to measure out an inkling of something, it would just be a speck of nothing!

When Fiona asked, though, Lily paused, wondering if there was more than a grain of truth in the accusation. If Lily were truly being honest, she would have to admit that, at times, she'd felt something, a lot of something, almost as if –

But it was ludicrous. They were just friends!

When Lily looked at her best friend again, the other girl was smirking. "I knew it!" Fee said gleefully. "You like him!"

"You do!" Isabella chimed in, giggling. "Called it!"

Startled, Lily stopped, staring at her friends. She couldn't believe them. First, this utter betrayal, this…lying by omission, wasn't that what they called it? And now – "What?"

Fiona jabbed a finger at Lily, punctuating every word. "You. Like. James. Potter."

"We're just friends!" she protested, but even to herself those words sounded weak, like she'd simply said them far too many times. "Or," she amended, " we were." Sighing, she flopped onto her bed. That sadness, so raw and initially fiercely draining, had started to fade into an old hurt. It had been over twenty-four hours, and now she felt strangely empty. "It doesn't even matter, because I don't think James is ever going to speak to me again."

Isabella tsked. "You don't know that."

Lily sighed and slumped to the floor, legs sprawling in front of her, back to Fiona's bed. "You didn't see the look on his face. He was so…" Even now, she struggled to describe what had happened. "It was like he gave up," she said faintly. "I hurt him so much, and I don't think he'll ever forgive me." She hated feeling like she'd hurt someone…thoughts of Severus briefly popped up, but she quickly dismissed them.

She had enough to beat herself up about as it was.

Fiona reached over and patted her on the head. "It'll be okay. Just give him some time."

"So that…what?" Lily fiddled with her braid. "We can just forget and move on? Just go back to being mates?" Did she sound bitter? She didn't mean to…

"Is that what you want?" Isabella was quiet, her voice gentle.

"Of course!" she stammered, but her head spun with visions of them together, curled up in the library, or eating dinner, or that one time in Hogsmeade, when she was with all of the Marauders, James' arm around her shoulder…

What _did_ she want? Before this year, they'd hardly even spoken, and then he'd become Head Boy to her Head Girl, and then they'd become friends…and now they were worse off than they'd been before.

They'd come full circle.

"Lily, you totally like him," Fiona announced, sounding so _certain_. "You've liked him for awhile." God, why did everyone around her sound so certain? James had thought she liked him, Fiona and Isabella apparently had too…

"What makes you say that?" she found herself saying, looking up at them. (But seriously, where was Emmy? Surely Emmy, good ol' calm Emmy, would have rational things to say?)

Fiona began to count off on her fingers. "You flirt all the time, you spend all that time together, you're even chummy with his mates! It's like all the relationship with none of the fun." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Lily resisted the urge to slap her best friend. "Just jump him already."

"What? We – I – what?" Never in so many days had Lily felt so dumb so freaking often. It was starting to be tiring. "We're Heads. Of course we spent all that time together."

"But you're always happier when James is around." Isabella sounded so reasonable, and Lily was completely taken aback. "Whenever he's in the room, you smile more."

"Really?" Lily thought back, but her memories seemed fuzzy. "Is that true?" But didn't all friends make their friends happy? Surely that was a central tenet of friendship, or something.

Merlin, she felt so confused. Sometimes, she felt like she and James were the best of friends, and other times…

There had been all those times, those moments when she'd felt…

Maybe it hadn't been her crazy imagination. Maybe she and him were just…maybe, maybe, maybe…

"Aha! You're smiling right now!" Fiona jabbed a finger. "See?"

She felt her cheeks grow warm, but she was powerless to do anything about it. "So?" she countered, mentally flailing about for something to anchor herself to.

But there wasn't anything – this was it; she was out of reasons.

When she looked up again, both Fiona and Isabella were staring steadily at her, waiting for her to say something.

Yet Fiona's mouth had a slight twist in it, and Lily couldn't help but give into her impulses, snatching up the closest pillow (a hefty red one) and hurling it at Fiona, who unfortunately caught it deftly with her Quidditch-honed reflexes.

Lily pouted. It had been such a good throw, too! Spot on, and with plenty of force.

_James would've liked the throw._

God. Why did she think about him all the time? It wasn't as if –

Was it?

This was the moment that Emmeline decided to make her entrance, sauntering in as if the world was perfectly calm and normal, like everything as still right-side up. "Hullo, all," she said cheerfully. "Why are we all bunched up around Lily's bed, eh?"

Lily scowled at her, but the anger behind it had mostly faded away. In the last few weeks, she'd had to resort to being pretty upset, and now she felt like she'd run out. Was that possible? "I suppose you also knew that James liked me?"

To her credit, Emmy didn't even bat an eye. "So the cat's out of the bag, is it? Scooch over, Isabella." It was amazing that all four of them could fit onto one bed.

Lily missed this. The last time they'd all crowded together on one bed, it must have been, oh, when they were third years? That time that Isabella's parents decided to separate, all of them had sprawled on Isabella's bed (they'd been smaller then), hugging her for hours and letting her cry.

What had happened to them? Lately, it seemed as if they were all pulling apart, some friendships growing closer, while others grew farther apart. Fiona was, arguably, Lily's closest friend, but now she and Emmy were always at each other's throats, and Isabella seemed to usually side with Emmy. In fact, it seemed as if different battlelines were drawn almost daily.

Battlelines…the thought reminded her of a long-ago conversation with James – she still didn't know where her friends stood, when it came to the impending war. But, mostly, her mind went back to James, to his smile, to the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he looked at her…

"Lily? Something wrong?" Isabella's voice was soft, gentle, waking Lily from her reverie.

"No, nothing." Lily shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. "Can't seem to get James out of my head these days," she said lightly.

Fiona rolled her eyes and swatted Lily on the shoulder. "Just admit that you like him already. When you do, everything will be much easier."

"Will it?" Lily looked at her ruefully. "How so?"

"Well, for one thing, you can make a decision and stop driving everyone crazy with this will-they-won't-they nonsense." Emmeline's eyes were sharp, her tone frank.

"What? We aren't – " Lily started to say, but then stopped to think, remembering all the looks she and James had always gotten when they were together. She'd always chalked it up to people adoring James and being surprised that a nobody like Lily even there at all, but maybe… "We are, aren't we." She could hear the note of defeat creep into her voice. "Driving people crazy, I mean."

"Realizing you like a bloke is supposed to be a happy thing!" Fiona exclaimed. "Cheer up, Lils – you look awful."

Did she? Well, why wouldn't she? Over the last few days, she'd received enough news to screw with anyone's mind. Of course she looked awful!

But a voice inside her head said quietly, _This news is supposed to be happy. _Most _people would be happy._ So, Lily sat up straight, looking her friends in the eyes, a glimmer of clarity coming into focus. "James likes me," she said slowly, feeling fuzzy. (Fiona groaned, but Lily ignored her, continuing on.) "And…other people have apparently known for ages." (Now Isabella was rolling her eyes, but Lily pretended not to see.) "_You _lot have known for ages. But…I guess…" As she spoke, she thought of all those moments with James, how she felt, how his hands felt when they brushed against hers as they walked, how he made her laugh and understood her so well, how… "Oh Merlin, I really do like James Potter, don't I." The statement, if uttered by any other girl, would've probably come out elated, but since she was Lily Evans, as confused a girl as ever there was, her voice went hoarse at the end and the last few words came out as a whisper.

There, it was, out, with an eerie finality. And she could hardly take those words back now, could she? Except that she did want to, she _did _regret those words.

But was that because those weren't her true feelings? Or because she was scared?

Before her eyes, her friends' smirks were transformed into big beaming grins, like they'd all won the lottery, and now it was Lily's turn to stare at them. Merlin, what was wrong with them? All those years ago, had she picked the wrong set of friends? Feeling a little irritated, Lily snapped, "What now, you daft fools? Y'all are pricks, crowding me like this."

A look passed between Fiona and Isabella, but it was Emmeline who finally answered. "We just never thought you'd admit to it, is all."

"What?" Lily looked from one girl to the next, not sure if she'd heard right. "You corner me, push me to admit my – my _feelings_, and then say that you weren't even expecting me to admit anything at all? What was the _point_?"

Now it was Isabella's turn to speak, apparently. Had they rehearsed these conversations, decided who next would soothe Lily's crazy? "Given everything that has happened lately, we thought that maybe it was time for you to be nudged a little in the right direction. Also, we " – she paused, looking uncertain – "_know_ you. We know that you have issues with your feelings for other people. Remember what's-his-face?"

"Thomas," Lily said automatically, her mouth moving before her brain fully got there. But – Thomas! Whatever had happened to him, anyway? For awhile, he had sent her weekly letters, but she'd been absolutely terrible about responding, and now she couldn't recall the last time she'd heard from him…

"Right, Thomas!" Fiona snapped her fingers, eyes bright. "There was an ordinary bloke if you ever saw one."

"Oy! Thomas was…nice. And cute." Lily stopped, wincing. Was that all she had to say? If she thought long and hard, she was even having a hard time conjuring up his face. Did he have brown hair, or was it blond?

"And ordinary," Fiona said with relish. "Ordinary in the _most_ ordinary sense of the word."

"What, you think that _James_ is an _extraordinary _bloke?" It was hard to get these words out of her mouth.

Emmy went back to smirking. "Maybe not by Fiona's impossibly high standards, but by anyone else's? Of course! James is brilliant, good-looking, Quidditch Captain, Head Boy –"

"You forgot arrogant, full-of-himself, obnoxious –"

"Charming, funny, potential Auror material – "

"Mean to Severus, a prick – "

At this point, Isabella threw up her hands, interrupting them. "For Merlin's sake, Lily! When are you ever going to admit that James has changed? Maybe he was a prick a few years ago, but everyone grows up, you know."

Lily sighed. "I do know, I do. It's just…me? And James?" The thought made her feel flustered and confused. "Wouldn't that be weird? Wouldn't it…change things?"

"Nahhhhhh." Emmy shook her head, her ponytail whipping across her face. "We _are_ all friends, you know."

"And," Fiona smirked, "James will make cute babies." She would've gone on, but Emmy shoved her a little too hard, and Fee tumbled off the bed, grunting as she hit the floor.

"But James hates me!" Lily protested, slumping against her pillows, feeling hopeless. Was the room spinning a little, or was that just her? "Although…" What was it Sirius had said this morning? "Black told me I should give Prongs a chance, but I don't think he'll let me."

Isabella's eyes glittered. "So, the real question is, what are you going to do about it?"

ooo

A/N: I know I'm miserable with the updating, but thanks for bearing with me! We're looking at, oh, only a few more chapters? Almost there! If you're craving more Knack, check out some of the one-shots I posted!


	18. Something Real

Thanks for all of the reviews! Is it no longer possible for authors to respond to individual reviews? I do want all of you to know that I read and appreciate each and every one!

ooo

_Wednesday, November 30, 1977_

"And that's it now. Any questions?" Lily scanned the room, looking from one prefect to the next. There was Edgar Bones, straightening his robes. Malcolm Avery, closing his notebook and neatly tucking his quill into its sheath. And there, in the corner, Jennifer Higgs, casting longing looks towards Victor Branstone, who was busy holding hands with Ursula Gilmore.

_Poor Jennifer_, Lily mused, even as she said aloud, "Great! Meeting adjourned." Victor moved from girl to girl easily enough, but not once in all of their years here had Victor ever spared a glance for her.

As prefects began to file out of the room, Lily let her smile slip. It was exhausting, pretending to be cheerful.

Especially around James.

As the last prefect (Olivia Lansbury, the slowest moving girl in the entire sodding school) finally left the room, Lily turned to where James had been standing, an overly-rehearsed speech on the tip of her tongue.

But he was busy, shoving his things into his bag, and even as she opened her mouth to speak, he was brusquely shoving past her, mouth set in a thin line.

_Oh no you don't_, she thought grimly. _Not this time._ For weeks, she'd been trying to catch James alone, and she wasn't about to let another precious chance go to waste. Before she could second-guess herself, she was going after him, running into a desk and wincing but moving on, out the door and –

Gone. _What?_ How had he vanished so quickly? This late in the evening, other students were supposed to be back in their Houses, so the corridors _should_ be empty, of course, but how could James have vanished so quickly? A tapestry at the end of the corridor was fluttering slightly, but there didn't seem to be any other movement.

"You're not going to be able to find him." Lily spun on her heel, only to find Marlene, slouching against the door, a sardonic grin on her face.

Lily didn't ask what Marlene meant; it was obvious whom she was talking about. Instead, she asked, "Why are you still here?"

Marlene pushed herself off the wall and fell into step with Lily. "I was waiting for you. Obviously. Where are you headed? I'll walk you."

"The Owlery." Lily rummaged through her bag and pulled out a thick envelope, mostly just to reassure herself that she still had it.

Marlene eyed the envelope. "Is that your – "

"Auror application? Yeah." They rounded a corner, and Lily flashed her badge warningly at a couple of third year boys, who ducked their heads nervously and scurried away, _hopefully_ back to their Houses. Who was supposed to be on patrol tonight, anyway?

"Isn't this due, like, tomorrow?" Marlene arched one long, thin eyebrow. "Cutting it a little close, aren't you?"

"You know me," she grinned. "Always a procrastinator."

As they started climbing the stairs to the Owlery, they lapsed into silence, and for a moment Lily listened to the sound of their footsteps. How many times had they climbed these steps? When she had first gotten to Hogwarts, she had gone up to the Owlery every other day, mailing letter after letter to her parents, begging them for news from home. As the years had gone past, she had come up here less and less, and when was the last time she'd written her parents, anyway? Maybe a month ago? Isabella had –

"Lily, I need to talk to you about something." Lily turned to look, any previous thoughts flying out of her head; Marlene's usually dancing eyes were calm, serious.

"What's wrong?" Marlene never looked liked this; usually, she was the sort of person who could brush off anything at all, and Lily had always envied that ability. Once, Marlene played half a Quidditch game with a broken arm, and Ravenclaw _still _won. "Is everything okay?"

"I…I…I've been recruited."

"What? By whom? And for what?" _And why is this a big deal?_ Surely, all of them were too young for this, weren't they?

Marlene ducked her head as she pulled the door open, wrinkling her nose at the smell. (The Owlery was rarely cleaned.) When they were inside, surrounded by owls of all shapes and sizes, Marlene looked around furtively. What was going on? She'd never acted so strangely before. "The Department of Mysteries."

"The Department of _what_?" Had she heard right?

"Mysteries." Marlene's hand went to her hair, fluffing up the bottom of her pixie cut.

She only did that when she was nervous.

Lily frowned, remembering a blisteringly cold day, and Quidditch, and a forgotten conversation. "Didn't you send in an application, months ago?" Her friend nodded, her eyes still grave and wary. "So, what's the problem? Shouldn't I be congratulating you? Weren't you expecting this?" _Isn't this a good thing?_

"They…want me as soon as possible." She started to bite her lip.

"That's great!" Lily was perplexed. "Seriously, Marlene. What's wrong?"

"No, you don't understand. As soon as possible means…if I decide to take the job, I'm going to go home for the holidays and…not come back. To Hogwarts, I mean." Marlene turned away, her fingers skimming the shelves. "How do you feel about this one?" Her hand rested on a large barn owl, who glared balefully and hooted once. "He's vicious, but surprisingly fast."

Lily's breath hitched; the change of topic was a bit much for her. "I'm sorry, what? Slow down for a second. They want you to drop out of school? Now?" Was that a thing wizards did? Lily's parents had raised her with the expectation that she would graduate uni, and when they'd found out that she was a wizard, they'd had to shift their worldview a little, but the expectation that she would graduate from _something_ was still there.

"Crazy, isn't it?" Marlene passed the owl to Lily.

"What about your schooling?" She pulled the envelope out of her bag and began tying it to the owl. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too heavy for him - if her application didn't reach the Auror Department by tomorrow morning, she was screwed. "Can they even do that?"

"Oh, because Hogwarts matters so much?" Marlene picked up one of the tiny owls and began petting it. "There's a war on, Lily. This means…I think they're scared, and I think they need all the help they can get. And quickly, too."

Lily knotted the envelope securely, then patted the owl and went to the window. "What are you going to do?" She couldn't even imagine being in the other girl's shoes.

Marlene rubbed at her eyes, and Lily suddenly noticed how tired her friend looked, how world-weary. Where was the fun-loving girl Lily had meet as a second year? When had they all grown up? "I don't know. I have three days to decide."

"Are you…happy? Excited? It's what you want to do, right?" Checking that the coast was clear, she launched the owl into the air, and they watched as the owl flapped away into the night. Finally, that horrid application was finished.

It felt almost anticlimactic.

Marlene's lips twitched, and for a second, she looked like her old self. "I don't even know what _they_ do. It's the Department of Mysteries!"

"Right." Lily patted her friend's arm as they left the Owlery and started down the stairs. "So…if you take it, what've you got to lose?"

"Well, we started here seven years ago, you know? It would be nice to finish things out." Marlene's voice was soft, thoughtful.

"But…what are you really missing out on?" Lily swept her arm wide. "It's only a few short months, and you've spent your entire life studying, anyway. Also, you won't have to do a final project! This is exciting!" After this statement, Marlene looked at her for a long, long while yet didn't say anything, her eyes large in her angular face. Finally, Lily asked, "What?" Why did people have a habit of looking at her as if she had egg on her face?

Marlene's hand went to her yellow-and-black tie, loosening the knot. "Only you would've thought of the final project as a great perk. I'm… glad I talked to you."

"Umm…thanks?" Lily was struggling to keep up; for a tiny girl, Marlene walked awfully fast.

"No, really. I wasn't actually supposed to talk to anyone about this, you know? It _is_ the Department of Mysteries, after all. I was supposed to keep it a secret and figure things out, but I felt lost. And…you always seem to have all the answers."

She scoffed at that one. "Me? You think that _I _have the answers?" As they passed another corridor, Lily saw a fifth year couple getting a little too hot and heavy. But, hey, when else would they find the time, right? So she stopped and coughed, loud enough to get their attention (they looked peeved, but she wasn't taking away points, so they ought to be grateful), and then moved on. "Surely you're joking."

"Of course not! You always seem so confident; you always seem to have a plan." And Marlene looked so earnest, like she honestly thought those things.

Lily really didn't have anything to say to that. Except – "Are you kidding? Have you _seen_ me lately? I wouldn't exactly call 'my plans' successful." It was true. She'd been ducking around corners, loitering in the Great Hall, carefully choosing her seat in class…

None of those had worked.

"Oh, but Potter will come around." Marlene elbowed her, snickering.

"Will he?" Lily kicked at a cobblestone morosely. "That's what I thought at first, but now I'm not so sure." It had been days now; had Potter simply given up on her?

If the roles were reversed, would she have given up on him?

"He will." Marlene nodded confidently, the light from the torchlight catching on her hair, making it sparkle. "Although…"

"What?" They'd reached the Gryffindor portrait hole; Marlene was simply going to have to walk back to Hufflepuff by herself.

Now Marlene's eyes were sparkling. "Potter loves a big splash. Maybe you ought to try your hand at one."

ooo

_Monday, December 5, 1977_

In the end, Marlene decided to go. Lily wasn't surprised, but she made sure to keep quiet about the matter, even as the rest of the school gossiped wildly. Marlene had eloped with someone; she'd been recruited by a Quidditch team, she'd run off to become a Muggle, she'd eloped with someone on a Quidditch team and they were going to hide as Muggles…if there was anything that Lily learned, it was that no one had really known Marlene.

Frankly, Lily wasn't even sure that _she_ had known Marlene. They saw each other infrequently, but when they did, they never just made small talk. That had to count for something, right? And yet…she couldn't think of the last time that Marlene had spent any time around Fiona or Isabella or Emmeline. She couldn't even think of people whom Marlene regularly spent time with.

Maybe Marlene had been more of a mystery than anyone had realized.

Regardless, something about Marlene's final words had struck a chord within her, and for the next few days, she had worked feverishly, driving all of her friends crazy with her pacing and muttering and crumpled pieces of parchment all over their beds. She'd been late to her classes, she hadn't slept much –

And then the holidays had started and everyone had gone home and Lily had become increasingly more frantic because now she had no one to talk her through her neuroses and her family was chaos to be around –

And now she was here, shivering in the dark, standing in front of James Potter's house, snowflakes on her coat.

Yup. That was her.

"This is crazy," she whispered, hugging herself. "Am I totally crazy?"

The thing was, the plan was so crazy, it just might work.

And it was too late, anyway; she'd already knocked on the door, and now she just had to wait for someone to open it.

She knew they must be home; so that she didn't look _too_ foolish, she'd owled Sirius yesterday, subtly asking about James' whereabouts. As a brill mate, he'd gladly given her detailed information (in an spell-encrypted letter that had taken her a couple of hours to figure out, of course), and she'd chosen this moment to make her stand.

His house looked nothing like she'd imagined it. She didn't exactly know what she'd imagined a wizarding home to look like, but there had definitely been turrets and some faint resemblance to Hogwarts involved. This…this just looked ordinary, like her own house, but a little larger. Weren't the Potters supposed to be incredibly wealthy or something? Was it all buried deep within Gringotts or something?

So here she was, waiting, with a million half-formed thoughts flying through her brain, scrabbling for her attention. What if this didn't work, what if it did, where were they going, what if he thought she was a fool, what if, what if, what if…So many possibilities, so many outcomes, and, right now, she hadn't an inkling about what was most likely. If she -

The door began to creak open. "Can I help you – Lily?" James' hair was tousled, his eyes squinting in confusion, and against the warm glow of his house she could just _see_ him as a child, disobeying his parents and opening the front door. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi. Can you come out here for a second?" She shivered, her heartbeat beginning to speed up. From inside, Sirius' boisterous laugh rang out, and she wondered what she had interrupted.

"Why?" He didn't move, and the panic began to set in. _What if he doesn't like it? What if he thinks it's ridiculous? What if he thinks I'm ridiculous?_

Aloud, she said, "Just come outside."

He opened his mouth to object, but something about her face must've looked serious, because he closed it again and ducked out of sight. For a second, she thought that he was just going to shut the door and that would be that, and her brain started automatically spinning wild outcomes, calculating the probably that she was going to have to knock again and look desperate.

But no, she supposed she shouldn't have doubted him, because he was back, wrapped in a thick black coat. As he closed the door, she backed away, giving him space on his front stoop. Then he turned to look at her, breath fogging in the cold. "What do you want, Lily?"

It was the first time he'd looked her in the eyes in almost a month…and she had to resist the urge to punch him in the face for being so grim, so distant. _You're trying to get him to…to talk to you_, she scolded herself.

"Can you just come with me?" She snapped her fingers, inspiration striking. "Think of it as…an adventure." _Sirius would appreciate the touch_.

"Really." James folded his arms, mouth set in a thin line. "Where are we going?"

She took a breath to steady her nerves, then smiled, trying to recall the way they used to be. "It's an adventure. You're not supposed to know where you're going." To keep up her flippancy, she spun and started walking away.

She hoped he would follow.

His insatiable curiosity got the better of him, which she had been counting on. "A'ight, Evans, wait up!" As he ran to catch up to her, she struggled to hide her tremulous smile.

Maybe her plan had a shot.

As they strode away from James's house, Lily felt the doubts begin to creep into her mind. _What if this doesn't go well? What if I overthought everything?_

"Lily? Are we going – "

"I need you to close your eyes," she said quickly, purposefully interrupting him, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing.

"What?" It was dark, and the falling snowflakes looked positively orange under the dim streetlamps. "Why?" His voice was terse, almost accusatory, and she resisted the urge to spit out a sarcastic retort.

"Will you just trust me?" She should've counted on James to be incredibly difficult.

He sighed, giving her one last wary look, but did as he was told, and she marveled at the fact that, after all this time, after not even speaking for a whole month, he still trusted her.

That had to mean something, didn't it?

Gingerly, she held his elbow, conscious of the places where his elbow touched her gloved hand. As she led him around the corner, she wished that she'd had the forethought to bring a blindfold; the temptation to peek would be, for him, excruciating. It was a good thing they didn't have to go far.

Also, at the last second, on a whim, she reached for his glasses and snatched them away, stowing them in her pocket. "Oy!" He yelped, hands flailing a little. "What are you doing?"

She reached for his elbow again. "Just trust me." As they reached their destination, she tried to slow her breathing, to keep her cool. "Okay, you can open your eyes now." Gently placing his glasses in his left hand, she stepped away. He would probably need some time to adjust.

Hurriedly, with the speed of a man in the desert reaching for water, he shoved his glasses onto his face, then blinked, looking around. "Oh, Lily," he breathed, eyes wide, and she saw him again as a small child. "What did you do?" But that was one of the things she'd always liked most about him, the way he could still look at the world with wonder.

She stared down at her boots, at the pattern of the snow against the dark brown leather. "Do you like it?" It had taken her all day to lug in all of the candles, and then to arrange them around the playground, and light them by hand…Of course, she could've used magic and it probably would've taken about ten minutes, but she'd seen a couple of Muggle children and she'd decided to play by the rules. Besides, the Muggleborn in her liked doing things by hand, as if everything meant more that way. (Okay, so, _maybe_, she'd cast a charm to keep the flames protected from the falling snow. But it was just a little charm!)

"What – why?" He still sounded a touch sardonic, and she struggled not to be hurt.

For weeks, she'd had a speech prepared, the well-rehearsed words running through her mind all the time, taking over her dreams. But in the moment, she found that all of those words were gone, and she struggled to make sense of her thoughts. "I…you were right, James. All those things you said."

"About – "

"Don't tell me you don't remember calling me daft," she said, still seriously contemplating her shoes. "I-I've been thinking a lot about how you feel, and about how I feel, and, you _know_ I've been chasing you all over school just trying to talk to you about it all, and, well, I figured I'd just show you." As she raised her head to look at him, she thought sternly, _It's all or nothing, Lily Evans. Go for it._

"This is the playground we had our first Heads meeting at, and you told me that you loved this playground a lot. And I figured…well, the candles…the point is, I lit a candle for every time that you'd asked me out, and as you can see, it's rather a lot." She looked around, at the candles placed on swings, and on slides, on the perimeter and on the seesaw.

(Lily had never been good at arranging things.)

"I just thought," she continued, steeling herself for this final push, "that maybe, well, I should ask _you_ out, just this once. So, James, will you go out with me?" There – the words were out of her mouth, and she couldn't take them away. For the first time, what was happening between them seemed permanent; real.

He took a step towards her, but this time, she didn't automatically back away, didn't automatically try to maintain a certain amount of space between them. For many long seconds, he didn't say anything, and she wondered if he was going to refuse, if he'd changed his mind, if he'd found someone else –

What he said wasn't a yes, or a no, but, something else entirely, his voice dry. "All this time, you kept count?"

Automatically, she swatted him, feeling some of the tension of the moment evaporate. (She'd never done well in romantic situations. Look at what had happened at Madame Puddifoot's!) "Of course not! I just…estimated. Or extrapolated. Whatever! I was hoping to overwhelm you with the sheer numbers."

He took another step forward, mouth twisting into a slight smirk. Suddenly she was aware of how close they were standing, and how much snow was falling onto his hair. "You just lied to me, Evans. In your attempt to be honest."

"What? It wasn't a lie. I just…massaged the truth."

"Oh really," he said, sounding darkly amused. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"You _know_ you've asked me out _loads_ of times! How was a girl supposed to keep track? I didn't know it was going to be _relevant!_" Her voice was getting high and squeaky, and she found herself feeling rather flustered, her cheeks warm despite the ever-increasing amount of snowfall.

He sighed, sounding old and weary, despite the way that his eyes were twinkling behind smudged lenses. "Oh, Lily, Lily, Lily Evans."

"_What_?" she snapped, feeling a little angry at his completely blasé manner. "Hey, I worked hard on this, and do you even _know_ how many candles I dragged out here and how hard it is for me to be this disgustingly romantic – _Mpf!_" she yelped in protest when James reached out and placed a finger on her lips, closing the distance between them. "What are you doing?"

And then she was totally conscious of all the places where they were touching, and the way that he slid his hand from her lips to her cheek, cupping it gently. Her breath caught as he ducked his head closer, and then, his lips almost brushing hers, James said softly, "You really are quite daft, Lily Evans." But then his lips were on hers, and everything felt just _right_, as if all of the squabbling and the laughter and their complicated friendship had just been a prelude to this every moment, as if they'd both been waiting for just this, and part of her couldn't believe how _stupid_ they'd been this whole time, fighting when they could've had this, but then again, hadn't they always been this way, and weren't they pretty stubborn, and – wait a minute.

She pulled away, frowning, and when he _sighed_ a little, she almost lost her resolve, but she went ahead and slapped him anyway.

"_Ow!_ Evans! What the bloody hell was that for?"

"You called me daft! Again!" As much as she liked James – as much as she was willing to admit now about how much she liked James – she had never been one for romance, and the seriousness of it all was making her queasy, and making her babble. (Also, he was an excellent kisser, and that wasn't helping her collect her thoughts at _all_.) "You – you have to stop doing that!"

He laughed, and it was the first time she'd heard his laugh in what felt like forever.

She rather liked the sound of it.

Reaching out for her and pulling her forward so that they stood hip-to-hip, he said, smirking, "What are you going to do about that?"

His voice almost melted her resolve, but she stood her ground, laughing as she ducked out of his arms and sprinted across the playground. "Person who blows out the most candles gets to call the other one daft for the next month!" she called behind her, feeling a burst of euphoria and excitement, of the possibility of something new happening to them, right here, right now. "Better get going, Potter!"

This was it, she knew, as she raced to the swings to swipe at a few candles with her wand (he didn't exactly know that she'd cast a charm to strengthen the miniature flames, so she definitely had an advantage).

This was the moment she and James did something real, together, for the first time in their lives.

ooo

There's another chapter; no need to fret! It's pretty short; I should have it up in a week or so.


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